


Sly and Songful

by Likelightinglass



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Animagus Harry Potter, Animagus Severus Snape, Everybody Lives, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Recovery, Romance, Scars, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-06-29 07:53:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19825783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Likelightinglass/pseuds/Likelightinglass
Summary: One of the those animagus fics, in which our heroes would rather secretly spy and pine instead of just have an honest conversation.But where would the fun in that be?Everyone lives AU, in which you will encounter birds, foxes, pining, stubbornness, falling in love, and scars.





	1. Summer, 1998

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bleedcolor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleedcolor/gifts).



> For the lovely and wonderful Bleedcolor, an amazing writer and better friend, who suggested "animagus" and let me run wild with it. 
> 
> Thank you for being my muse and cheerleader. <3
> 
> (And the gorgeous artwork is by bleedcolor too!)

Harry proudly handed the large, crisp white envelope with the gold official Ministry seal over to Madam Pomfrey. 

“Ah, this is it then?” the Matron asked.

“Took him long enough, but Shacklebolt finally agreed to a full pardon,” Harry said. “Professor Snape is officially safe from Azkaban, thank Merlin.”

“Thanks to you, is what I hear,” Madame Pomfrey said pointedly.

Harry looked down and blushed slightly. “Well, the important thing is it’s official now. I couldn’t believe they were ready to cart him off to Azkaban. After everything he’s done! Not to mention he’s injured.” Harry looked over to the bed at the far side of the infirmary in Hogwarts, the curtain pulled around it so the man inside was hidden from view. “Is he awake? Will you make sure he gets it?”

“He has woken up a few times, Harry, but hasn’t stayed conscious very long. It’s a miracle he’s even survived, between the venom, the dark magic, and the physical injury; he’s going to need treatment for the rest of his life.”

Harry caught himself staring at the white curtain, then pulled his gaze back to the Hospital Wing matron. “But ‘the rest of his life’ still means he’s going to live though, right? He’s going to be alright?”

“I believe so,” said Madam Pomfrey. “Eventually and with proper help. I agreed it was best to keep him here while Azkaban was still a possibility, but now that he has his pardon, it might be necessary to transfer him to St. Mungos.”

“What does Professor McGonagall think?”

Madam Pomfrey sighed. “Not that the woman doesn’t have enough to worry about, but after what you’ve told us about the memories and what has been going on this year, poor Minerva has been beside herself when it comes to Severus. She still thinks of him as a much younger man sometimes, I believe. I know she’s prepared to keep him at Hogwarts as long as he needs to be here, whether he teaches again or not.”

Harry nodded. After the Battle, the wizarding world was ready to try to pick up the pieces and move on. Harry was trying to do his part to leverage his fame as The Boy Who Lived (Twice) into actually helping out where it was needed, like setting up a fund to care for the injured, repairing the damage to the castle itself, and most of all, making sure Snape got the recognition he deserved for his part in the war. After what he had seen in the memories Snape gave him as he thought he was dying, Harry hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the man. He’d been wrong about him before, and he was so glad he had been wrong about where Snape’s allegiances had truly lain. 

“There was something else I needed to talk to you about, Madam Pomfrey.”

She nodded, gesturing for him to go on.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about my future, and what I’d like to do next.” Harry hesitated, and glanced briefly at the closed off bed again, although there hadn’t been any noise or movement. “I think I’d like to become a Healer. Would you help me?”

_________

Grimmauld Place was looking much less gloomy since the first time Harry had been there. Sirius had been able to clean and brighten the place up plenty, they’d finally managed to banish Walburga Black’s screaming portrait. Although Harry and his Godfather had barely seen much of each other during the last year, with the war and Harry’s Horcrux hunting, they were making up for lost time now, with Harry moving in for the summer before returning to Hogwarts to complete his studies. 

Today, Hermione and Ron had come for a visit, and Harry was surprised by the sheer normalcy of such a thing of having his friends over for tea. It was the first time since the battle the three of them had actually been alone together, without any urgent matters to attend to besides just enjoying each others company. Harry hadn't realized how sorely he'd missed it.

Harry filled his friends in on the plan he’d worked out with Mcgonagall and Pomfrey about continuing his education. Ron had been offered a spot training to be an Auror right away, and though Harry was sad they wouldn’t see each other as much when Ron started his training program, he was very proud of his friend and knew he would make a fine Auror. Privately, Harry thought it would be nice for his friend to be out of Harry’s shadow. After seven years of constantly dodging Voldemort, Harry was over fighting Dark Wizards. 

“I don’t understand why you don't want to complete a proper seventh year like I am, Harry,” Hermione said with more than a little disapproval. “Especially if you’re going to be a Healer. You know you need top marks on you NEWTs to be accepted into a formal apprenticeship.”

“I know, Hermione.” Harry replied with a bit of exasperation. “It’s...I don’t know if I can go back to just being a regular student at Hogwarts, after everything that’s happened. I’m going to assist Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing all year, and I’m going to study independently and then take the NEWTs with everyone else.”

Ron reached out and gave Harry a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. “I get it, mate.”

Harry gave Ron a small smile back. “Snape is still in recovery, you know,” he said, changing the subject.

“Oh, yes, we heard,” said Hermione. “The poor man. I’m amazed he survived Nagini at all. Is he going to be alright?”

“I think so. For a certain definition of ‘alright’, I suppose.” Harry sighed sadly. “He’s going to need this complicated treatment for the rest of his life. Because of the dark magic in the venom.”

Hermione and Ron shared a look Harry didn’t quite understand. 

“Learning healing spells like that must be interesting to you, since you want to be a Healer.”

“Of course! There’s so much to learn, I’ve actually started looking ahead in studies about healing from dark curses already.” Harry laughed at the surprised look from his friends. “Don’t worry ‘Mione, you’ll always be the most studious one of us three.”

Hermione just smiled. “I think you’ll be a wonderful Healer, Harry,” she said.

“So do you think you’ll want to specialize in treating dark magic wounds? Like Snape has?” Ron asked.

“Maybe,” Harry said. “I mean, of course that’s what being a healer is about, helping people. And I really want to help him.” Harry realized what he said. “I mean, people like him. With similar injuries,” he quickly corrected.

“Have you got a chance to visit him yet?” asked Ron, glancing between Harry and Hermione in that odd way. “I know you tried when he was still unconscious.”

“No, not yet. Not properly anyway. Oh!” Harry brightened. “The pardon came through! And he’s going to be getting an Order of Merlin,” Harry said proudly.

That look again. What was that about? 

“Well, we know how important it was to you. And how much of a fuss you made at the ministry.” Hermionie learned in a bit as if about to share a secret. “Harry, is it true you really told Shacklebot-”

Harry cut her off, blushing slightly. “Well it was only a fuss because they were being so ridiculous. Especially after I showed them what I’d seen in the pensieve! Can you believe they were going to cart him off to Azkaban to await some trial? After everything he did for us all! And how much he’s been through these past years!”

“Of course, Harry,” Hermione said soothingly. “We are all so happy that Professor Snape survived, and of course he doesn’t deserve to be in Azkaban.”

Harry was a bit embarrassed, he hadn’t meant for such an impassioned display. It was just hard, he thought to himself, realizing he hadn’t truly known the man, that they’d all gotten him so wrong. “Well, you know I would do the same thing for either of you,” he said by way of explanation.

“Yes, Harry.” Hermione glanced at Ron again, and then continued in the patient tone she used to explain arithmancy concepts to beginners. “We know you’d do exactly the same, if it was for us.”

The conversation shifted to discussing their friends and families, and the summer, and the plans for the coming year. It was a pleasant tea with his best friends in the world, but Harry couldn’t shake the confusing feeling that they knew something he didn’t.

____________

Harry had avoided looking in the mirror whenever possible for the last few weeks, but today he was determined to face his new scar.

The familiar lightning bolt scar which had marked him a freak to his family and a hero to the wizarding world, the remnant of the Dark Lord lodged in his flesh, had changed dramatically after the final battle. 

Instead of a small red and defined zigzag pattern on his forehead, after Voldemort’s second Avada Kedavra, the destruction of the horcrux had left a large, crackled scar resembling several bolts of lightning at once. It had healed cleanly with neat lines, but the thin branches of the scar covered his forehead, up behind his hairline, and down across his right eye, over his cheek and nose and into a bit of his left cheek. Most of the right side of his face was criss crossed by the new lines of the scar. 

Harry lightly traced the lines of the scar with his fingertips. It never hurt anymore, and the skin wasn’t raised, just very slightly pitted along the lines, as if carved in by the light press of a knife. 

All in all, it wasn’t so bad. It’s not like he’d taken all that much pride in his appearance before, always being a scrawny kid with messy hair. He rearranged his fringe to cover most of his forehead, and his glasses obscured much of the lines around his eyes and nose. It would have to do for now. He didn’t want to deal with glamours every day, so he would just have to get used to his new appearance. 

His musings about his scar were interrupted by Sirius calling him from downstairs.

“Coming,” Harry called, as he made his way downstairs to answer his godfather. It was strange, moving on with life without the shadow of Voldemort looming over him, he thought to himself. Choosing a career, preparing for tests, all seemed so tame after everything he’d been through in the past year. 

“I thought it might be fun for us to do a little project together,” said Sirius.

“What kind of project?” asked Harry, curious. 

“I know how hard things have been lately for you, and I was thinking of something that might cheer you up. Your father was so happy the first time he’d transformed into his animagus form. I thought maybe, if you wanted to, I could teach you how to do it. It might help you feel closer to him.” 

Harry hadn’t expected that at all. He’s always been interested in that kind of magic, his father, godfather, and head of house all being animagi, but had never gotten the opportunity to try it himself. He was very excited about the prospect, he realized. “Sirius, that’s brilliant!” He said with a grin.”I’d love to. So what do we do?”

Sirius clapped him on the back and led him into the kitchen, where a cauldron sat with a variety of ingredients strewn around it. “Well, Harry,” he said, “it all starts with a potion.”  
_________

After saying the final incantation, Harry felt the slight buzzing in his veins that Sirius had warned him about. Sirius had told him that just like a Patronus, you couldn’t choose the form you took as an animagi, that it represented something within yourself. So Harry had been excited to find out what he would end up as. A stag maybe, like his father and to match his patronus? That seemed likely. Maybe a cat or dog, he wouldn’t mind that. He idly hoped he wouldn’t end up as a snake. His history with Slytherin aside, after Nagini he didn’t think he could enjoy the feeling of slithering around without being reminded of her, or Voldemort, or that awful day at the Shrieking Shack when Snape had almost died. 

Harry felt himself shrink down until he was looking up at Sirius towering over him. He was something pretty small then. He hoped suddenly he wasn’t a rat. He extended his arms and realized he no longer had any-he had wings! He tested his voice and was pleased to hear the high tones of birdsong.

He was a bird! Harry immediately took off and flew in a few quick circles around the yard, chirping happily. Sirius extended his arm, and Harry landed on it slightly awkwardly, not used to the dimensions of his animal body.

“A nightingale!” Sirius exclaimed. “Well, I’ll admit it’s not what I expected, but what do you think, Harry? Do you like it?”

Harry let out a couple high pitched chirps and did an awkward little dance to indicate he was pleased. 

Sirius laughed and conjured a small mirror so Harry could see his new form. Harry studied his new appearance, turning around and spreading out his wings. He looked like a regular nightingale with brown feathers, a white belly and a small, pointed beak. The only distinctive markings he could see were that the feathers on the top of his head seemed perpetually mussed. Ah, well he supposed he’d never be able to tame his hair, not even as a bird. 

He was the most pleased though that he could fly without a broom! He took off again and tested it out, enjoying the feeling of sailing through the warm summer air. Flying had always brought him joy, and now he could do it whenever he wanted. 

“Well, I had hoped it would end up as something that could run around with a dog a little easier, but it seems you’re quite happy as a bird.”

Harry chirped in agreement. He decided to test out his new voice a bit, and started to sing. 

“Lovely, Harry,” said Sirius with a genuine smile. “If only James could see you now. I’m sure he’d be quite proud. Of everything.”

Harry was suddenly very glad that birds couldn’t cry.

After a moment, Harry saw a white flutter land nearby. Hedwig looked at Harry curiously.

Could his familiar tell it was him?

Harry hopped over towards Hedwig and waited expectantly. She cocked her head a bit, taking in the odd little nightingale in front of her. Harry sang a cheerful little tune and flapped his wings as bit, hoping his owl would see it was really him, just much smaller and more fluttery than usual.

After a moment, she nuzzled against him and Harry chirped and nuzzled back.

“Of course she can tell it’s you Harry,” Sirius said. “Why don’t you go for a little fly with her. Spread your wings a bit.”

Harry took off into the night without another word, and Hedwig followed close behind. Harry would test out his animagus form with Padfoot soon, but for right now the only thing he wanted was to feel this completely free, flying as fast as he could with Hedwig close by. 

_________

Its was still several weeks before term started at Hogwarts, and Headmistress Mcgonagall had invited Harry for tea to discuss the particulars of the coming year. He wasn't the only one of his year with special circumstances for the year, several students had elected not to return at all, some, like Hermione, were choosing to do a standard seventh year, and a few like Harry were choosing some form of independent study and distance learning. Although everyone was committed to Hogwarts as a whole going back to normal, McGonagall had been very understanding with the students who chose alternative arrangements. 

Before making his way up to the Headmistress's office, Harry passed by the infirmary. He stood outside the entrance for a moment, wondering why he'd taken this direction, when he heard an argument.

"I have to find Potter!"

"Severus, get back down this instant before I body bind you."

Confused, Harry walked into the infirmary and was met with a wild looking Professor Snape weakly attempting to climb out of bed, and an irritated Madame Pomfrey preventing him from injuring himself further.

"Poppy, I know you don't trust me, but I need to leave and find him before he faces the Dark Lord. There's something I need to-," Harry had come close enough to the bed that Snape caught sight of him. "Potter!" He exclaimed, confusion but pleasant surprise evident in his expression.

"Professor, calm down. Madame Pomfrey, what's wrong with him?" Harry asked, worried.

"He's just confused, Harry," she whispered. "Side effects of the painkiller potions. He's woken up a couple times before, said some nonsense, and fell back asleep."

Snape ignored her, staring intently at Harry, black eyes wide and brow furrowed. "Potter, we have to be quick, he can't know you're here. There's something you don't know. It's your scar, it's-" Snape paused, confused. "Why is your scar different?"

Harry decided to allay his fears as quickly as possible without getting too detailed and accidentally upsetting him.

"You told me already professor. I know about the Horcrux, and it's over. We did it, we won. You're safe now."

Snape hadn't seemed to hear him at all, still focusing on the new lines of the scar covering much of Harry's face. Was he disgusted by it? Most people did a good job pretending not to notice the new disfigurement, but under the influence of who knows how many potions, would Snape say something cruel?

Snape, still staring transfixed, but his eyelids beginning to droop, reached his hand out tentatively towards Harry's face. Harry continued standing completely still, unsure as to what Snape was intending. After a moment the tips of Snape's fingers parted through Harry's fringe and he lightly brushed the pitted lines of the scar on his forehead. "Very pretty," Snape murmured.

Well. Whatever Harry had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that. 

"Um, er...thank you, sir," Harry said awkwardly. Pretty? He must really be delirious. 

Snape leaned back into bed, fading quickly. "Pretty," he repeated sleepily, still looking at Harry.

Harry flushed, suddenly strangely warm. "I'll come back and see you later, sir. When you're feeling better?"

"Yes...come back," Snape murmured quietly, and promptly fell asleep.

Harry looked at the Matron, who just shrugged. "Earlier he was saying something about cheating at a card game. Before that, going on about the proper way to prepare beetle eyes. I wouldn't put too much stock in it."

Harry looked down at the sleeping figure, still blushing. Pretty kept repeating in his head. He told himself Snape was delirious, and what a strange thing to say, and what did he care anyway, if Snape thought his new scar was pretty?

Deciding not to think too much more about it, Harry chatted with Pomfrey a bit longer before heading up to his meeting with McGonagall.

_________

After tea with McGonagall, she'd insisted on bringing him round to where the castle was damaged, discussing the repair schedule, and surprisingly asking his opinion on a few things. It was odd, being treated more like an adult than a student. Perhaps she was making an effort to include him because he would technically be a member of the staff in the fall, a trial apprenticeship and official infirmary assistant while preparing for his NEWTs. The two walked around the grounds for a while, chatting and bumping into one staff member after another, all of whom wanted to speak with him and Express their delight at seeing him in the fall. Harry was beginning to squirm under all this attention. 

Of course, after bumping into Hagrid he allowed himself to be taken to the hut for tea to catch up with him. Before he knew it, then it was almost dinner time and he was talked into staying and eating in the Great Hall. It was very strange sharing a table with the few staff members staying over the summer instead of surrounded by other students at the Gryffindor table. 

He even had an almost pleasant interaction with Filch. Well, Harry had greeted him and Filch had nodded and Mrs Norris didn't hiss. So. He was counting that as a win. 

After dinner, Harry stopped back in at the infirmary. Snape had asked him to come back...sort of. Maybe he'd be more lucid this time. 

"Why are you here again? Haven't you had enough of harassing me yet, Potter?"

Ah, well. Lucid it is. He already missed delirious Snape.

"Hello, Professor. I came back to check on you." 

Snape sneered. "War hero turned nursemaid. I'm fine, not that it's any concern of yours. Again, why are you here bothering a man in recovery?"

"You asked me to come back," Harry said, becoming more irritated. "You don't remember?"

Snape looked momentarily alarmed and then set his features quickly back into a scowl. "Why would I want to see you? Rest assured, now that those blasted potions are out of my system I'm perfectly aware of whom I am speaking with, Potter," he said. "Unfortunately," he added with a nasty smirk.

Harry opened his mouth to say something equally rude, but before he could come up with a retort the words sank in. "Out of your system?" He said with a frown. "Professor, why aren't you taking anything for the pain? Your injuries-"

"Have been explained to me, by someone far more qualified than you, thank you very much. I don't need them."

"Sir, that's...you're being ridiculous, I thought you were supposed to be clever. I'll get Madam Pomfrey and get you something, you're clearly in pain."

"You'll do no such thing. You'll get out is what you'll do, Potter. I don't need anything and I certainly don't need you here insulting me."

Harry's face was flushed and warm again, but this time it was from anger. "Fine, I'll go."

He started to storm out, then turned back, seeing Snape's eyes still on him as he was leaving. "Thank you, by the way,” he spat. “That’s all I wanted to say.” Harry started to continue out the door then paused at the frame. “I really did want to say thank you,” Harry said quietly. “For everything you did for me, for all of us. You’re a hero.”

Snape looked away.

“Still a miserable git though.”

Snape huffed a mirthless laugh, and Harry left.

_________

Before heading back home to Grimmauld Place, Harry decided to try out his animagus form at the Hogwarts grounds. He flew around the castle a couple of times, stopping to perch on the towers and admire the view. On his third pass around, he stopped outside the infirmary, drawn in by a familiar voice.

“Poppy, I’m sure I can do it myself,” rasped Snape, his voice still recovering from his injury. 

“Have it your way,” Harry heard Madam Pomfrey say with a sigh. “Please Severus, just don’t be a martyr. Take the pain potion first. The spell to draw out the dark magic is excruciating.”

“I’ve had worse,” Snape muttered. “Thank you, Poppy,” he said, a bit louder. “You can go, truly.”

Harry moved closer to the open window, perching on the ledge so he could see inside. The infirmary was empty except for Snape now. Harry had a clear view of him in his bed, a collection of potions in vials of varying shapes and colors on the table beside him. 

Snape set up a mirror in front of him and began to peel back the dressing that covered most of his neck. 

Harry would have gasped if he’d been in human form, but as a bird he could only make a slight squeak, which went unnoticed by the Professor, who was busy focusing on treating the terrible wound left behind by the snakebite. 

The flesh on the left side of Snape’s neck looked like it had been ripped to shreds. Although the wound looked mostly closed, thick and raised pink ropes of scar tissue outlined every tear. From what Harry could tell, the scarring completely enveloped half his neck, down below the loose collar of his nightshirt and up over his left jaw. 

But the absolute worst of it was the spidery creep of thin black lines all over the wound, that Harry knew was a result of the venom. The horcrux magic must have polluted the venom even beyond normal, and infected the wound with dark magic. 

Harry could only stare as Severus winced, raising his chin to get a better view of the wound. 

Harry heard him mutter an incantation he did not recognize, and wave his wand in specific motions around the wound. The black stained veins began to lighten slightly and pull from the outer edges, drawing in and pulling the putrid, misty liquid out through the center of the wound. Snape banished the dark magic as it was extracted. After only two sets of the spell, Harry could see Snape’s wand hand shaking, and the other tightly curled, digging into the bed linens. He must be in terrible pain, Harry thought. Despite his tumultuous history with the man, Harry couldn't help but feel empathetic. Just like Snape to refuse the pain potion Pomfrey had left him. 

Seeing that Snape looked almost ready to give up with the wound still looking awfully infected by the dark magic, Harry did the only thing he could think of to distract the man from the pain. He began to sing. 

Softly at first, then raising volume and varying the tone, Harry sang as a nightingale. It was surreal, hearing himself in the familiar pitches of the bird song. He tried to keep the melody sweet and comforting, knowing Snape would never accept any help from him in his human form. But hoping that maybe he could bring him some relief in this way.

Harry thought for the first few moments that Snape hadn’t heard him, he was still so still. But like ice slowly thawing, Harry noticed Snape turned his head towards the window until the black eyed gaze rested on Harry.

Harry did his best to look like a normal bird, just perching on a windowsill and singing to the sunset, not looking directly at the man in the infirmary bed. 

Harry kept singing as cheerfully as he could manage, until Snape seemed to relax a bit and resumed his ministrations, until the black lines along the wound were almost gone, and though still terrible looking, the skin seemed much healthier.

Still recovering from the pain of the procedure, Severus let out a few shaky breaths, redressed the wound, and laid back against the pillow, his head still turned to where Harry sat on the window. Harry continued singing, slower and softer, until he was sure the man had fallen asleep.

_________

The second time Harry sang for Snape, he wrote it off as curiosity. The third time, he told himself he wanted to practice being in his animagus form some more. Somewhere around the tenth time, Harry stopped trying to make excuses and just fell into the routine. 

After dinner, he Apparated close to Hogwarts, changed form and flew around. Occasionally Hedwig came with him, but usually he was alone. He told Sirius he was going flying, which was true, and Sirius hadn’t asked any follow up questions. Harry figured his godfather was trying to respect his privacy, but Harry could tell he was curious. 

Every evening around sunset Harry the nightingale perched on the outside ledge of the open window to the infirmary, and sang. Around this same time, Snape (stubborn, masochistic Snape) was doing the complicated spellwork necessary to keep up with draining the dark magic and allowing the wound to continue healing. From what Harry had gathered from conversations with Pomfrey, he’d need to keep up with it daily in the beginning and every few days as time went on, otherwise the dark magic would eventually spread until it was fatal. Apparently, there was no way to permanently rid the wound of the venom, it grew, the poison sliding through the veins steadily on, only ever able to be beaten back. 

When Harry was still making excuses for his visits, he told himself this was only to get some experience as a Healer, being able to see a rare and complicated treatment close up. He tried to be clinical, detached, observing the magic at work. But bit by bit, Harry started to get affected. 

And not just by the little whimpers and pained winces Snape quickly stifled, even though no one besides a bird was around to see or hear him. But the fact that no one besides McGonagall (once) and Pomfrey (by necessity) ever came to see him. No flowers or cards or pictures decorated his bedside table. People probably assumed, as Harry would have, that the nasty Professor wouldn’t want such things cluttering up his space, but now Harry wasn’t so sure. He was seeing Snape nearly every day, and he didn’t look angry or cruel with no one around. Just...tired? Lonely? Sad?

As he was considering what it was exactly he was seeing in his former potions professor, a line from a poem suddenly came into his mind, unbidden. _“And if you were there to notice this, you might have gone down as the first person to ever fall in love with the sadness of another.”_

Wait. Love?

Surely not. The thought was so surprising, so distressing, so impossible he immediately stopped singing. It was the first time Harry had proof Snape had even noticed his presence in the previous days, as he’d never addressed him before. 

“Did a cat finally get to you?” Snape rasped from his bed, his voice still weak from disuse. He set his wand down, exhausted. “Good,” he said tiredly. “You make a nest up there, and distract invalids who are trying to recover.”

Well, that was sort of the point, thought Harry. He wasn’t sure what to do now that he’d been addressed. He needed to keep acting like a regular bird, lest Snape work out he’d had an unregistered animagus spying on him. 

Before Harry could determine whether it was best to continue singing on or just leave for the night, Snape did something rather unexpected and began to hum the tune to an old song. “You aren’t the only one who can sing, you know.” Harry decided Snape must be either very tired or very much in pain to be this talkative. Snape continued for a few more bars before making a choking sound and coughing. “Well, used to be able to anyway,” he said unhappily. 

Snape liked to sing? Harry added that to his list of little bits of information he’d collected about the man. Right up along how he takes his tea (one sugar, splash of milk), favorite biscuits (surprisingly, chocolate), and the odd little habit of separating mashed potatoes into small equally sized circular mounds and eating them one by one. 

Harry took a bit of a risk, and repeated the tune to the song Snape had attempted, singing until the man fell asleep.

Harry thought about those few moments of unexpected humming for a long time. Lying awake in bed that night, images from the past several days and unwanted lines of poetry piling up in his mind, he felt on the edge of something, but couldn’t determine quite what it was. 

He fell asleep trying to work out the puzzle of Severus Snape and his snake ravaged throat, so terrifyingly human, after all. 

_________

“To the next year, and wherever it takes us,” Hermione said, raising her glass.

“Cheers,” said Harry and Ron, tipping their glasses up as well.

It was the day before Ron’s Auror training was to start, and a few days before term at Hogwarts, and the trio had met for drinks to celebrate. 

“I can’t believe we actually made it here. Voldemort’s gone, everyone’s putting their lives back together. We’re all starting our careers soon,” Harry said.

“It’s unreal, mate. After dark wizards and horcruxes, everything else seems a bit tame in comparison, doesn’t it?” said Ron. 

Harry nodded. “Hermione, congratulations on making Head Girl by the way.”

“Thank you, Harry,” she replied with a smile. “It’s an honor. Have you gotten everything sorted with Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall?”

“Yep. Ready to start. Already have a mountain of books to read for Pomfrey.” Harry took a sip of his drink. “Oh, Snape’s out of the infirmary now. He’s going to be at Hogwarts still, but I think McGonagall has him on some kind of reduced teaching schedule.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Hermione said politely. “Do you think you’ll...be seeing a lot of him? Are you going to request he tutor you at all for the Potions NEWT?”

“Oh, I’m not sure he wants anything to do with me...last time he saw me he ordered me to get out and leave him alone.” Although the last time I saw him, Harry thought to himself with a quirk of a smile, he was complaining to a bird about the substandard editing of Potions Quarterly. He almost laughed at the thought of Snape’s sarcastic rant but quickly stifled it. 

Hermione glanced at Ron. Had he missed something?

The table was quiet. Harry looked between his friends nervously. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Harry,” Hermione said quickly. “Now, I’m sure Madame Pomfrey has already recommended Burnstrumm’s Guide to Magical Ailments, but it really is the best place to start-”

“No,” Harry interrupted, “really, what’s going on? You two always look like you’re in on some secret and I’m tired of it. Is this something about me becoming a Healer? Do you think I’m not cut out for it or something?” Harry was upset, he didn’t think his friends could really be so unsupportive but what was it they were obviously saying behind his back?

Hermione looked horrified. “No, Harry, of course not! It’s just, well...you seem to talk about…” Hermione gestured to Ron as if asking for help.

“Mate, we think you fancy Snape,” Ron said.

Harry stared at his friends, stunned. “What...what are you...why would you think that?” Too late, he realized he hadn’t actually denied it, and hastily added, “No I don’t!”.

Hermione and Ron shared that infuriating look. 

“You had a crush on the Half Blood Prince, which turned out to be him,” started Ron. “You were obsessed with that book.”

“I was not...obsessed with it,” Harry defended weakly. Sure, he had been a bit enamored with the mysterious Prince and had some thoughts about him he didn’t care to share with anyone. But aside from a few...confusing dreams he decided to chalk up to teenage hormones, he hadn’t thought about that in the context of Snape since he’d discovered that Snape and the Prince were one and the same. 

“And all that to do at the Ministry about the pardon...and the Order of Merlin,” he added.

“He’s a war hero! Of course he doesn’t deserve to be in Azkaban! We talked about this before.”

“Yes, but Harry,” said Hermione. “You have to admit no one expected such an, er, impassioned display about it.”

“Well that..doesn’t mean anything more than that I respect the man,” Harry said, with no confidence in his words whatsoever.

“We just want you to know we love you and support you no matter what,” said Hermione. 

“Even if you fancy Snape,” added Ron.

Harry thought about what his friends were saying. He wanted to dismiss it as ridiculous out of hand but....the potions textbook, seeing the doe Patronus, the memories in the pensieve. Not to mention watching him the past few weeks with pretty weak reasoning. How clever he is, how witty, his voice...

Oh, no.

Harry groaned and fell forward, holding his head in his hands. “I think I fancy Snape.”

Ron patted him on the back consolingly, and Hermione gripped his arm. 

“Sorry, Harry,” Ron said grimly. “Good luck.”

_________

Harry and Sirius were sitting down to dinner, and Harry had the distinct feeling that Sirius was attempting to bring up a subject he didn’t actually want to discuss. 

“Harry, you haven’t...” Sirius cleared his throat and continued, “If you’d like to invite that Weasley girl over sometime, you can. I’m sure you haven’t seen much of each other.”

“Oh, Ginny?” Harry asked. “Um, we’re actually...not together anymore.” He hesitated a moment, then decided to keep his feelings to himself. 

“I’m sorry, Harry. Are you doing alright? I remember my first heartbreak,” Sirius said sympathetically.

“Oh no, I’m not heartbroken. We’re still friends. We just weren’t a good fit.” Harry loved Ginny, but she was always going to be more like a sister to him. 

“Harry, if...if you don’t like girls, then that’s fine, you know,” said Sirius. “If you want to...talk about how you feel, you can talk to me.”

Harry looked up from his mashed potatoes, realizing he was shaping them into several small mounds. Upon realizing, he quickly mashed them all together again with his fork. He wasn’t used to Sirius sounding so nervous. He must have talked to Ron or Hermione, thought Harry. Was it really that obvious about how upset he was?

“I like girls,” said Harry. “And guys.”

“Oh. Well, that’s alright.”

Harry considered whether he should keep talking. Sirius was clearly trying to be a good godfather to him, and Harry appreciated it so much. But given the object of his affections, and the rather complicated history, Harry hesitated to make it clear. Although, if Sirius had talked to his friends, maybe he already knew?

“I like guys. And I like girls,” said Harry, deciding to just go for it. “But I think I’m in love with Severus Snape.

Sirius did an incredibly admirable job of keeping his face neutral, but the twitch of nose and slight pull of his lip downwards made it obvious he wasn’t exactly pleased with this declaration. Although he must have spoken to Hermione, because he didn’t seem at all surprised. 

“Well, Harry. We all have....crushes we don’t understand.” Sirius appeared to be sweating. “Um, it’s, er, perfectly natural for a boy your age…”

“It’s not just a crush Sirius,” Harry said miserably, his head sinking back down to the kitchen table. “I really do love him. Not that it matters, of course. He hates me.”

Sirius didn’t act quick enough to hide the brightness of his expression, the thought that Snape hated Harry made this crush mostly a non-issue. 

“Harry, you’ll be alright. It’ll pass, I promise. And you don’t need a miserable sod like him anyway.”

Harry glared, and Sirius smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, kid. I’m not the best at this sort of thing. But everything will turn out fine. You’ll meet a lovely young witch in no time, I’m sure. Or wizard!” He added as an afterthought.

Harry tried to smile. “Thanks, Sirius. Maybe you’re right.”  
_________

After moving his things into his new private room (so he could focus on his studies and the psuedo-apprenticship, according to Headmistress McGonagall, without “distraction”), checking in with Madam Pomfrey about his schedule and first steps, and devouring dinner in the Great Hall, Harry found himself poised in front of Snape’s door in the dungeons, stopped in place by his sudden inability to knock.

He had just realized he didn’t have much of a plan here. Besides that one day in the infirmary, he hadn’t spoken to Snape since he was, well, dying. And who knows how much of that could be attributed to the medication or the pain? He’d returned the memories care of Madam Pomfrey, Snape obviously knew he wasn’t being sent to Azkaban (although how much anyone had told him of Harry’s involvement in that, Harry didn’t know), and for all he knew, Snape hadn’t so much as thought about him once in the past few months.

How do you start all over with someone with a history like theirs? How do you even start that conversation? How do you even...knock?

Harry’s frantically spiraling thoughts were interrupted by the door swinging open in front of him, his hand still hung in midair in the aborted movement of knocking.

Snape’s gaunt, sallow face, and tired looking eyes appeared before Harry, his irritation plain on his features. 

“Were you intending to stand outside my door all evening, Potter, or was there some purpose to your visit?”

What to say? Hello? Can I come in for tea? Do you still hate me? I’m the nightingale who’s been singing to you for weeks and I worry about you, and will you please tell me you are still keeping up with your treatment? Also, I’ve realized how human you are, and how lonely, and now think I might be in love with you?

“You, er, you weren’t at dinner,” Harry said, like an absolute idiot. 

Snape just stared.

“And, I was hoping to talk to you?” Harry said, a question more than a statement. 

Snape closed his eyes and sighed. Harry figured he was going for aggravated, or annoyed, but he just seemed...tired. “About?” he asked.

“Um, can I come in?”

“How long is this going to take?”

Harry was floundering. This wasn’t going well at all. Ok, quick. Maybe set up a time to talk later? He’s tired. Of course he’s tired, you idiot, Harry berated himself, he’s ill! Oh, maybe that’s it!

“I’m sorry, I’m bothering you and you were probably resting. I know you’re still recovering.” Harry nervously ran his fingers through his hair. 

“I could help you, though,” Harry continued. “Madam Pomfrey taught me the spell you need. I’d...I’m new at it, of course, but I’d be gentle with you.”

Severus froze. “And what would you know about which spell I need? You haven’t even seen the extent of the wound.” His tone turned icy and he sneered. “You sure you could stomach it, Potter?”

Harry remembered suddenly that he was supposed to have barely seen Snape in the past couple of months, and tried to backtrack, “I just mean...um, well of course I saw when it first happened, and I know...I’ve been studying about scars, because-” he gestured to his face. “And you know, the horcrux must have made the venom-”

“Is there a coherent sentence in my future, Potter,” interrupted Snape acidly, “or am I going to have to parse out whatever the hell you’re trying to say?”

“I’m saying,” Harry swallowed. How to convey that he just wanted to find a way to get closer to him? After all those nights watching him, he still hadn’t been able to just sit down and talk to his former Professor, properly say thank you, or even just see each other for who they were, instead of the roles thrust upon them. 

“I’m training to be a Healer, with Madam Pomfrey. I’m going to live here and assist her while I study for my NEWTs.” Harry suddenly thought of a way he could be around Snape, and help him too. “I’m sure it would be...good experience, to help with your scar. I mean, with the dark magic and the type of wound-” Harry stopped talking, realizing Severus was staring at him with intense anger, his face getting red and completely still.

“You think I’ll allow you to experiment on me as your little pet project?” Snape ground out, hardly more than a whisper.

Harry was chilled. No, that wasn’t what he meant at all! He’d bungled the whole thing.

“Go away, Potter.”

“Sir, I didn’t mean it like that-”

“Go away!”

Harry left before he ended up hexed, but not before shouting a pitiful, “I’m sorry” before Snape slammed the door shut in his face.

For the first time in several weeks, Harry did not fly to Severus’ window or sing for him. Although he still thought it was a good idea to give the man some space after their argument, at least as a human, Harry was second guessing not at least visiting him as a nightingale. He hoped he had been bringing Severus some comfort in the only way he was likely to accept it. He would be staying in the same castle as the man, soon enough. Maybe he’d get another chance to get to know him better, if he could learn to think before he spoke. 

The sun had begun to set earlier in the day, and with autumn coming the nights were getting chilly. Perhaps Severus would just attribute the nightingale’s absence to the changing seasons. 

Was it wrong that Harry hoped he would miss him, at least a little?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line from the poem Harry references is from "The First Dream" by Billy Collins.


	2. Autumn, 1998

The sound of the door slamming shut behind Potter was reverberating in his head, already threatening to push Severus from a splitting headache to a migraine. Well, the sound or the boy himself, he couldn’t really be sure. He hadn’t been able to shake the ache in his head all day, and now Potter shows up at his door, barely making sense and going on about scars. He’d gathered enough gibberish that he knew to be insulted and hopefully managed to shout angrily enough to be rid of the insufferable brat for the foreseeable future. 

He sat down in his chair by the fire, and considered if he had it in him to attempt the healing spell on himself tonight. He couldn’t believe how _tired_ he felt these days. The last year had been the worst of his life and he hadn’t expected to survive the war at all, let alone with his freedom intact. But now, safe at last, he was alive but forever ruined by that blasted snake.

He glanced idly at the formal pardon on his shelf and the Order of Merlin (Third Class) beside it. He was constantly torn between the thought of framing them as some kind of a private joke, or just tossing them into the fire and vanishing from the Wizarding world as a whole in the middle of the night. For now, they were gathering dust on the bookshelf until he could make up his mind. 

Usually by this time that annoying little songbird was at the window. Severus had fallen into the routine of performing his healing spells around the time the bird made its rounds and insisted on squawking into the evening air within his earshot. Severus wasn’t sure if it was the same bird that found his rooms after he’d moved from the infirmary last week, or if there was just a flock of them nearby. He had to admit, even if begrudgingly, the singing was a welcome distraction from the pain. He listened to the silence at the window a few moments longer, thinking he could make out birdsong much farther away. Maybe it had taken up a new roost, for all he knew the flighty little squeak changed rounds every couple of weeks. That would explain the shift from the infirmary to the window near his rooms. Although feeding the silly thing once in the hospital wing probably gave it proper motivation to seek him out afterwards, he mused. Blame it on the delirium.

Severus scoffed at himself. Had he finally gone round the bend, debating internally about the roosting and singing schedule of a blasted bird? Or multiple birds, more likely? Besides, it was getting colder wasn’t it? It was hard for him to tell whether it was actually unusually cold or not. Ever since that snake, he’d had a slight but perpetual chill. He could probably go another day without the spell anyway, he decided. He should just head to bed early and try to sleep this headache off. Shaking his head at the absurdity of dwelling on it all, he picked up the parchment Minerva had sent earlier that day to review his schedule for the week. They’d discussed the particulars of his responsibilities while “in recovery”, but she'd finally sent him the formal missive this afternoon. 

Severus grumbled at the “reduced schedule” Minerva had assigned, scanning over it. NEWT level classes only, that was to be expected. A very short list of names to tutor privately, two Slytherins that would not be returning to Hogwarts. That would be simple enough. A small selection of Head of House duties for Slytherin, but only administrative. Severus rolled his eyes. Old Slughorn had been unloading administrative duties on the Prefects back when he had been in school. How honored he was to be on the list of approved helpers. And of course, continuing to keep the Hospital Wing stocked with potions. He’d figured as much with that one. Although he noticed a note next to that scratched in unusually small handwriting for Minerva. 

Assisted by P’s new apprentice-HP

Poppy had an apprentice this year? He hadn’t met them all summer long, but that wasn’t too unusual. Well, hopefully they were competent enough and knew their way around a cauldron.

Severus set the parchment down before it clicked into place.

Wait, hadn’t Potter been nattering on about studying to be a Healer? And how he’d wanted to use him and his snakebite wound as a test subject?

Assisted by HP. He was to be assisted by Harry Potter.

Severus groaned. Was it too late now to fake his death and move to Tahiti?

__________

Severus was in an even fouler mood than usual on the first day Potter was expected to join him for work on stocking the infirmary, and he made sure the so-called Boy Hero was immediately aware of his displeasure, scowling at him from the moment he walked in the door.

"Good evening, sir. Thank you for letting me assist you," Potter said with such a polite tone, it immediately made Severus even more annoyed.

"Did you bring the inventory list like I asked?" He said curtly.

Potter produced the list of potions and stock levels immediately, moving to join Severus by the workstation table. Why was Potter being so meek? Severus had no doubt this entire endeavor was going to end up as a disaster. No help at all would be better than having to pander to Potter, who apparently thought he was special enough to start an apprenticeship without even taking his NEWTs, defeating Dark Lords notwithstanding. 

The standard variety of healing potions kept in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts had apparently dwindled appallingly low. It was to be expected, after the more...creative approach to detentions he was forced to allow the Carrows to perform in this past year, plus the battle itself, it made sense that the formerly overly stocked infirmary was running so close to empty. Well, he’d be damned if the school was forced to order stock from whatever swill they were schilling out at St. Mungo’s these days. They’d have to start immediately. 

"Madame Pomfrey says we'll have our work cut out for us, sir." The boy seemed uncomfortable, even nervous, he was barely making eye contact. What was wrong with him? "She made a mark next to the ones she'd like us to start with."

Seveus took note of Poppy's marks and scribbles on the list. "Let's start with the sleeping draught. It'll be a relatively quick brew and will yield a large quantity at once. We can make a double batch of the base and save that for-"

"Headache reliever?" Interrupted Potter.

Severus looked up from the list and locked eyes with him. He quirked a brow. "Correct, Potter. Perhaps you won't be completely useless after all."

Potter furrowed his brow in an annoyed frown. "Don't call me useless. I'm here to help you and to learn more about healing, and I intend to do so."

"Yes, the golden boy and his special circumstances. Tell me, Potter does catering to your whims only apply to Hogwarts staff or the ministry and muggle governments as well?

“What is it that you think I do, Snape? Just send out letters, ‘Dear Sir-stroke-Madam, I’m Harry Potter and I do whatever I want?’”

“Of course not, Potter. No one could read your abysmal handwriting if you did.”

Potter just glared, but his lips quirked to side with a flicker of amusement. 

“Listen if you want me to just stand in the corner and watch, that’s fine. But I really do want to learn.”

Severus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Gather the following ingredients and we'll begin." He listed off the necessary materials and the two begin to work in tense silence, broken only by the occasional instruction, or (more often) cutting remark.

He caught the brat looking towards his neck more than once. Severus didn't know how he was ever going to make it as a Healer if he couldn't hide his inability to refrain from staring at awful wounds. Severus hadn't had any good looks to be ruined in the first place, but even he was more than a little horrified by what remained of his neck. His robes were buttoned up to his throat and there shouldn’t be any curse resin visible at the moment, but he knew the boy could still see a few lines crawling up around his jaw. The boys failure at keeping his gawking unnoticeable only served to make him more irritated. 

Halfway through completing the potion, Potter was red faced and clearly holding back from blowing up at him. Why he was insisting on maintaining this polite facade was still unclear to him, but Severus longed to pull a rise out of him, the way one can't help but pick at a scab. 

"I have no idea why you insisted on this bizarre independent study and pseudo apprenticeship anyway, Potter. Defeating the Dark Lord means you're too good to finish your education like every other student?"

That seemed to be the final straw, and Potter finally broke his quiet compliance, "What's the matter with you, Snape?" He shouted. In his temper, he released an entire fistful of rosemary into the cauldron at once, instead of the required one every few seconds, causing the concoction to turn a sickly green and furiously bubble. 

Years of practice with dunderhead students and explosive chemical reactions allowed Severus to quickly erect a magical barrier between them and the spewing cauldron before they were both covered with the potion. 

“You’d do well to control your emotions, Potter,” Severus said, banishing the remainder of the ruined potion from the cauldron and double checking the workspace for any damage. It looked like the ward he’d pulled up had held well, preventing the contents of the draught from getting on either of them. “You’re lucky this wasn’t a more violent reaction. Did you get anything on you?”

Harry scowled. “Plenty of violent reactions today, it seems.” He gave himself a once over and glanced at his exposed hands. “No, nothing got on me.”

Severus, not trusting that cursory glance, moved forward to study him more closely. He caught sight of something slightly red shining across the back of the boy’s left hand, and sighed, aggravated. “Perhaps you should get your prescription checked, Potter. What’s this, then?” Severus asked, grasping Harry’s hand and pulling it closer to examine. Allergic reaction, perhaps.

“No, sir, that’s nothing,” Harry said, trying to pull back, but Severus held his grip, and moved the sleeve back to his wrist. He stilled, staring at the words that marred Harry’s skin. I must not tell lies. Without thinking, he ran his thumb over the final letter, forever imprinted in Harry’s flesh. Smoother than he expected, Severus thought distantly.

Severus continued to hold Harry’s left hand in his, examining the light scar. How had he never noticed this before? “What’s this from?” Severus asked softly. 

“Detention with Umbridge. Fifth year.”

“A blood quill?” Severus couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice. “For it to have scarred over though and still be visible after this long...how many times did she make you write with it?”

“Until it sank in, she said.”

Severus swore, and Harry looked up, surprise evident in his face. Severus still hadn’t let go of his hand, and without thinking, traced over the entire phrase with the tips of his fingers, reading it aloud as he did. “I must not tell lies?”

“Keeps me honest, I suppose,” Harry tried to joke, but there was no humor in his voice and Severus wasn’t laughing. 

Anger bubbled up, at Umbridge, and at himself for never noticing. 

Still holding Harry’s hand in his (why couldn't he let go?), still oddly transfixed by the scar (why did he even care?), he opened his mouth to say something cutting about that sham of a witch and Professor, but instead what came out was, “I’m sorry.”

Harry’s eyes were wide with shock, but before either one could say anything further, there was a loud knock at the door. Severus dropped Harry’s hand as quickly as if it had burned him and turned to the door, but the boy hadn’t taken his eyes off him, his expression unreadable.

“Severus, it’s me, Remus. Can I come in?” the voice said from the other side of the door.

Severus wandlessly flicked the door open, stepping farther away from Harry. 

"Am I interrupting your work?" Asked Lupin, gaze flicking between the two of them, noting Harry's odd expression and the way his hand still awkwardly hung in midair. 

"Nothing to interrupt, Lupin," said Severus. "Come inside, then."

"Hello, Harry," he greeted, smiling.

"Hullo, Remus," said Potter in an oddly distracted tone. "Professor Snape, did you want me stay and try again, or-?"

“I think we're done for the day, Potter,” Severus said coldly, expecting an argument. 

“Yes, sir,” said Harry.

He was momentarily confused at the boy’s disappointed expression and glum tone. Shouldn’t he be grateful to be free of Severus for the rest of the day? Perhaps he thought things would only be worse for him tomorrow if he argued today. He also caught a look of pity on Lupin’s face as his eyes followed Potter out of the room. The werewolf better not have anything to say about the boy being forced to spend time in the lab with a horrid old dungeon bat. It wasn't like Severus was the one asking for it. 

“How’s your recovery going, Severus? We’re all very happy to see you up and about,” said Lupin as he followed over to where the cauldron full of Wolfsbane potion sat under a stasis charm. 

Severus elected not to say anything about the fact that this mysterious “all” Lupin mentioned had been all too happy to avoid him while he was lying in a hospital bed, let alone sending any sorts of get well soon cards. Why was he even thinking about that, Severus admonished himself, what did he care if everyone (almost everyone) had left him alone? “I’m fine,” he said curtly.

Lupin tried again. “Why don’t we have a cup of tea? I’m sure I’d be grateful for any advice you have. I know I’ve instructed Defense Against the Dark Arts Before, but I’m hoping for a more permanent stay this time. I’d love to hear-’

"Why the sudden overtures of amiability now, Lupin?" Severus interrupted with a snarl. "It can't be about being colleagues, you certainly weren't inviting me to tea last time you were the Defense Professor."

"I want to apologize, Severus," Lupin said quietly, and Severus was so surprised by the sincerity on his face he couldn't think of a snappy comeback, just stared at the man, stunned. 

"Apologize," he repeated weakly, and made a noise he hoped was a scoff.

"Honestly, I do," Lupin said. "Not just for all the awful things I was part of when we were children, but the last few years as well. I really am sorry about everything, especially how terribly difficult the past years must have been for you."

Now Severus did scoff with confidence. 'Difficult', that was an understatement. Stamping down the niggling and uncomfortable feeling that he was actually pleased with what the werewolf was saying, he busied himself with collecting a goblet of the Wolfsbane potion.

"Quite used to taking care of myself, Lupin, but thank you for your concern, I'm sure," Severus said lightly. "Drink that here, please."

Lupin complied immediately, grimacing slightly at the taste. 

“You don’t have to be alone, Severus. You do have friends.”

“Friends,” Severus repeated flatly. What did the werewolf possibly think they had in common besides a desire to see the Dark Lord vanquished? "Do I?"

"I'd like to be friends, Severus. Put the past behind us. Plus, with everything you've done for the Order, and Harry and all of us...you're practically part of the pack." Remus smiled ruefully. "Call it werewolf instinct."

"Please don't," Severus said, horrified. "And as for friends, do be a dear and get out of my lab. I have plenty to do besides make sure you don't go on a rampage throughout the castle in a few days."

Lupin sighed. "Of course, Severus. Thank you for the Wolfsbane." He started to leave. "Oh, and Severus, about Harry-"

"I'm not torturing the boy, Lupin, if you have a problem with him assisting with the infirmary stock, take it up with Minerva," interrupted Severus. "Though that didn't do me much good," he added under his breath.

Lupin looked surprised. "Not at all, Severus, I'm sure he'll learn a great deal from you. We're all very proud of him choosing to pursue a career as a Healer."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

Lupin hesitated, an odd expression on his face. "You should give him a chance, Severus. He's a fine young man. Perhaps he'll surprise you."

What was he blathering on about? Why did Lupin care if he was friendly to Potter or not? This entire conversation was way out of the realm of Severus' comfort zone, and he had no desire to analyze why. 

"Indeed," he said noncommittally, and Lupin took his cue to finally leave.

That awkward moment with the blood quill scar, werewolves offering apologies and friendship, and the bizarre idea that Potter (a fine young man?) might surprise him. This was getting too strange by half. Severus vowed to push this entire day out of his mind, and began preparing the lab for whatever horrors might lie in store for him tomorrow. 

_________

As Severus waited for Minerva in her office, in his much more comfortable spot on the other side of the desk, he was grateful for the thousandth time that he was no longer Headmaster. 

“Severus, thank you for waiting. Always another fire to put out." She smiled at him. "Have some tea, dear."

Severus accepted a cup. "Better you than me. I can't believe you actually wanted this job."

"Obviously gone senile in my old age," she joked, and Severus gave a half smile. 

"How are you holding up though, Severus?" She asked more seriously. "Your schedule isn't too strenuous?"

"If you were worried about me working too hard, you should have let me just move back into my house," Severus said with a scowl. 

The Headmistress turned stern. "I'll not have you wasting away in that miserable old house alone and that's final."

Severus just sighed sourly and rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm in much better health surrounded by dunderheads."

"You should try to do something...fun, Severus. The war is over now, and you’re alive. It's time for you to enjoy your life."

"Hmm, and what do you suggest? Holiday to a muggle amusement park?"

Minerva pursed her lips to hold back a laugh at the image that brought. "Perhaps something a little closer to home."

"What do you do for fun, anyway? Chase birds? Swipe tuna from the kitchens?"

"Actually," she said thoughtfully, "spending time in animagus form can be quite invigorating. It's harder to get lost in human emotions in animal form. Much easier to just let go and enjoy the simple pleasures of laying in the sun and chasing birds."

"I'll take it under consideration," Severus said in a bored voice.

“I'm actually surprised someone of your skill level never chose to become an animagus. The potion required isn’t terribly difficult, especially for you, just time consuming. Why haven’t you attempted it before?” asked McGonagall. 

Severus crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, surveying her for a moment before speaking. 

“If I tell you, will you report me to the ministry?”

Minerva raised an eyebrow. “Severus. Don’t tell me you're unregistered?”

Severus sighed. Honestly, he never found much use for his animagus form. He never liked the feeling of "letting go" as Minerva had put it and giving into baser instincts, he preferred to be in complete control at all times, his survival often depended on it. It was difficult enough keeping it a secret from the Dark Lord, lest it be used for some nefarious purpose. Plus, and this was likely just a bit of vanity, he was a little annoyed his animal form wasn’t a more dark and imposing figure.

He shifted form and leapt up to the desk. Minerva tried to hide her smirk as she looked down at him, in the form of a fox. 

“Severus, you’re positively adorable.”

Severus growled.

“You’re a very handsome fox, Severus. Why don’t you use your animagus form more often?”

Severus changed back just as quickly, and shrugged. “Not much to do with it besides run around the forest, and very little time for such frivolousness in recent years.” Severus did not say he felt awkward in animagus form, and preferred to have more control over how he was presented. Swooping dungeon bat he had perfected, but a scampering fox? He certainly had not. 

“Well you’re only teaching in a very limited capacity while you continue to recover. Why don’t you run around the forest a bit? Enjoy time as a fox. It’ll do you some good, to get out in the fresh air, and you wouldn’t have to worry about being recognized, or dealing with anyone.”

Severus considered the prospect. It wasn’t a terrible idea. Even he was feeling a bit stifled staying in his room all day whenever he didn’t have a class to teach. He’d been refusing to even come out for meals, not prepared to face anyone and letting the house elves bring him food whenever he remembered to eat.

“I’ll think about it, Minerva,” he said honestly.

She just nodded and continued on. “How’s Harry working out? Poppy says he shows quite a bit of aptitude for the profession already.”

“I don’t think he and I make a very good team,” said Severus, making an attempt at being diplomatic. “He’s already exploded one cauldron because he couldn’t keep his temper under control.”

“Yes, and I’m sure you were the complete picture of patience and good naturedness the entire time?”

“I don’t know what you were thinking, insisting on this charade in the first place,” Severus said with a scowl. “Why not just make him take a regular seventh year like Granger is, and most of the other students? I don’t see why everyone lets him get away with whatever he wants.”

Minerva furrowed her brow and gave him her disappointed teacher glare, which even after all this time made him feel like an errant schoolboy. “You should be kinder to the boy, Severus. He cares about you, you know.”

Severus scoffed. “He most certainly does not.”

“Mmm. What about your pardon? And your Order of Merlin?”

“Third class,” Severus muttered, then looked up suspiciously. “What about them?”

Minerva just sighed.

“Potter had something to do with that?”

“I told him I wouldn’t say anything, but yes, I think you should know. While you were lying unconscious in the infirmary, Harry was working ceaselessly to clear your name.”

Severus ignored the sudden twinge of guilt. “Well. Kind of him to mention me in passing in his tea with Shacklebolt, I’m sure, but that’s hardly-”

Minerva interrupted with a laugh. “In passing? Kingsley was prepared to send you to Azkaban as soon as you could be moved. Harry threatened to stand outside his office all night, I’m told.” She paused, as if remembering another stubborn boy pacing anxiously outside Gryffindor tower, ages ago. “Threatened to sleep there, if that’s what it took,” she said pointedly.

Severus looked away. 

“I don’t know how many letters he wrote or how many office doors he banged on, but it was days until Kingsely agreed to, what was it Harry said?” She paused, pretending to try to remember exactly how it was phrased. “Oh yes, ‘get his head out of his arse and show Snape the respect he deserves for risking his life every day to save us all.’”

What? Severus didn’t even know what to think, or whether to be elated or embarrassed. Why hadn’t Potter brought any of this up before? Hand deliver the pardon in the infirmary and lord it over him? He was uncomfortable, filled with a feeling he refused to identify as anywhere near _grateful_ , to Potter of all people. He was suddenly desperate to keep himself busy, stamping down the confusion Minerva’s words had imbued him with. He had to get out of his head before he started down a path he had no desire to follow down.

“What was that you were saying about running around as animagi for a bit?”

Minerva just smiled. “Come along, Severus,” she said with authority. “I’ll show you all the best hiding spots.”

She shifted to her cat form and strolled out into the hall, looking back expectantly. Severus sighed, took on his fox form and followed along. It was immediate how much better he felt. He still retained his human mind and consciousness of course, he knew who and where he was. He even knew there were several things he was choosing not to think about at the moment, but it was so easy to just ignore it. He scampered after Minerva and followed her throughout the castle. Chasing after other animals they came across, hopping up on window ledges, laying in the sun. Maybe the old cat was on to something, Severus thought. 

Perhaps he might make a bit of a habit of this after all.

_________

One day, after a particularly trying NEWTs class and the looming spectre of Potter joining him that evening to replenish the Infirmary’s Pepper Up stores, Severus was amusing himself by stealing quills from unsuspecting students and batting them around with his paws. Dinner would be served shortly, and after that Potter would be coming, so he decided to take a few moments to walk beside the lake before heading inside. 

But his blissful respite from thinking about Potter (which was not the reason he was spending so much time as a fox, certainly not) was interrupted by the sight of the boy himself, sitting in the grass near the edge of the forest, books piled beside him. 

Hmm, surrounded by books? Perhaps the boy had decided to take his studies seriously after all. Well, better late than never, Severus supposed. He moved a bit closer while still staying out of sight, trying to read the titles. Oh, he may have textbooks all around him but at the moment he appeared to be reading a magazine! Severus scoped out the title, expecting to see some drivel about Quidditch or even _Witch Weekly_. But instead he was shocked to discover...a potions journal. An academic potions journal as well, the kind Severus himself subscribed to, not one Potter would have happened upon in the corner store. He remembered suddenly, Potter’s odd attempt the other day at a stilted conversation about the advances to the formula of the Wolfsbane potion. Severus had thought he must have heard something about it from the werewolf, but now realized the article had been in the most recent issue.

Severus was suddenly floored by the absurd thought that Potter was...studying up in order to have something to talk about? With him?  
Why?

He tried to shake off that idiotic idea, but the possibility that Potter could possibly be thoughtful and studious enough to try to engage him in unnecessary conversation when they were togehter made him feel things he would rather not analyze.

He crept away as quietly as he approached, shifting form back into a human at a deserted spot near the castle, and made his way back to his lab. He absentmindedly began to set out the necessary ingredients for the potion on schedule tonight, looked over his stores and made note of what needed to be gathered or ordered soon and when to do it. He kept himself as busy as possible until Potter arrived, avoiding the uneasy feeling that he might actually be looking forward to it. 

________

Halloween found the rest of the castle in celebration, preparing for the feast in the Great Hall, but Severus had slipped out, deciding a stroll in fox form might improve his mood a bit. This was always a difficult day for him, to say the least. Though the ache of grief that accompanied the loss of the first friend he’d ever had would never go away, he’d at least have some measure of comfort that he had managed to do right by Lily, as much as he could, and managed to protect her son. The Dark Lord was finally defeated, it was over. He wondered if anything he accomplished could ever truly earn forgiveness, though. He still hadn’t quite managed to forgive himself.

Unconsciously, his feet had taken him right to the clearing that Potter typically frequented. 

He appeared to be holding a book again, but Severus could tell immediately something was different, because he could hear Potter sniffling. He crept a bit closer and saw...of course. Lily and James. He had a photo album of his family. Severus was crushed with the sudden guilt of intruding on a very private moment. The boy deserved his time alone to grieve more than Severus did. Yes, he'd lost his only friend on this date but besides the fact that he still held himself responsible for that, Harry had lost his _parents_. He tried to withdraw quietly, tensed as a twig broke under his feet. 

Harry turned at the sound, quickly wiping his eyes. "Who's there?"

Severus stood still, his eyes locking with Potter's, the red rimmed skin around his eyes only making the green more shockingly intense. 

"Oh," Harry said softly, then smiled a bit. "Hello, Mr. Fox." He motioned towards some uneaten sandwiches wrapped in cloth. "You hungry?"

Severus should just leave, just run away like a normal fox should, but despite himself he was cautiously moving a bit closer. 

Harry held a piece of sandwich out at arms distance, coaxing the fox closer to him. 

Well. He was pretty hungry, he'd barely eaten anything at breakfast and nothing since then, and foxes tolerated an empty stomach much less well than a human. Instinct brought him up to boy, and he snatched the food out of his hand, careful not to accidentally bite his fingers. 

"Would you keep me company a bit?" Harry said, trying to sound friendly but it came out...lonely. Severus tilted his head to the side in confusion. Didn't he have hordes of friends and admirers whose shoulders he could cry on? Why was he wasting time alone in a forest, a book full of old pictures, practically begging a wild animal to spend time with him?

Potter must have taken Severus indecision as acceptance, because he inched a bit closer to the fox and slowly extended his hand out, as if testing the waters. Severus thought briefly that he ought to teach the boy a lesson about trusting wild animals and bite him, but he was curious to see exactly what Potter was going to do. He stood still, his eyes on the boy, when Harry stroked the fur on Severus' head and scratched behind his ears. 

The human brain that wished to protest the incredibly undignified display Severus was about to put on was quickly shut up by the fox brain, which only registered how absurdly good that felt, immediately leaning into Potter's touch and bunting against his palm. 

Before he could realize what was happening enough to get ahold of himself, he was curled against the boy’s leg, rolled to the side and happily submitting to those wonderful scratches and pets. 

He was brought back to reality by Potter's gentle laugh. "You like that?" 

Severus just continued to nuzzle against him. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had been this affectionate with him and he wasn't sure whether the fox brain or the human brain was more desperate to soak up as much as possible. 

After a few minutes his attention returned to the album, and he started speaking in a soft, sad voice. “These are my parents,” he said moving the album so Severus could clearly see the happy, smiling faces of James and Lily. “They died on this day, when I was a baby. They were killed by an evil wizard. If you grew up in the forest, maybe you saw him around here a few months ago.” Potter hesitated. “I hope you didn't.”

Severus very much wished he hadn’t. The human emotions of guilt and sadness at the situation were threatening to overwhelm him in this form. He tried to focus on the album, but that was a mistake, then looked back at Potter, which was even worse.

“That’s the same night I got my scar.”

Severus was trying to continue thinking fox things. His higher mind told him he should leave, that the boy would be furious to find out the Death Eater (and much hated former teacher) responsible for his parent’s death was right next to him, _cuddled up against him_ , but the fox was perfectly content to stay where there was warmth and food and kindness.

"I mean, I know I wasn't terribly pretty before, but with this," he said, gesturing to his scar. "Well, a little more gruesome now. Probably scare anyone off," he said with a self deprecating laugh.

The absurdity of that statement made Severus momentarily forget he was supposed to be acting like a regular fox, and he stood up so suddenly he nearly fell over. 

Potter noticed the unusual reaction and gave Severus a confused look. "What is it, Mr. Fox?" He said with a chuckle. "Don't like talking about scars?"

Severus would tell himself later that it was merely his animal brain reacting, and had he not been caught off guard he never would have acted the way he did. He would tell himself that. 

So, the fox, being unable to communicate with words that not only was he infuriating pretty before the changed scar, but he was upsettingly beautiful now, (in fact looked like some kind of great and terrible storm God, Severus thought), did the only thing a fox could really do. 

He put his front paws on Potter's chest, nuzzled his snout against the winding neat branches of the lightning bolt scar, which now extended beyond his forehead, over his eye, and down his right cheek, and licked it. 

Potter startled, and pulled back a little. "Oh! Um, you like it then?" He laughed. "Thank you?"

What was he thinking? He immediately tried to run away, mortified at what he'd just done. He really did like Potter's new scar, but would never admit he found him attractive, let alone lick his face if he were human.

"Don't go yet," Potter said, apparently not wishing to be left alone. Severus hesitated at the vulnerability in the boy's tone. 

The boy reached out tentatively, and Severus decided to let himself not think about anything as embarrassing as the bevy of thoughts shuffling around his mind, and instead let himself think as a fox, and sank into a position utterly alien to him as human: curled up against a warm body in the late afternoon sun, dozing off against the feeling of the young man stroking his fur with a constant and gentle affection.

________

More afternoons than Severus cared to admit found him in the forest, as a fox, _accidentally_ where Harry liked to spend his free time.

Severus was increasingly confused by these visits. He was finding the boy to be much more studious than he ever anticipated, constantly revising and surrounded by books for his NEWTs and texts specific to Healers in training. He was thoughtful and quiet, and though Severus knew he had plenty of friends, his colleagues unanimously adored him and he had plenty of admiring fans (if the amount of owls at every breakfast were any indication), he had an air of loneliness about him that Severus found all too familiar. 

On more than one occasion he’d even see the boy do something unbearably kind, such as helping calm lonely and homesick first years (even a Slytherin or two…) that gave Severus the uncomfortable feeling that maybe he didn’t truly know the boy at all. This couldn’t be the arrogant, troublemaking son of James Potter. The boy celebrity who sought attention and fame? Severus was feeling several emotions at once, and the only one he could confidently identify was “unease”.

Their time together in Harry’s capacity as assistant was even...dare he say, pleasant? He proved himself to be respectful and helpful in the lab, although still with enough snarky comments Severus couldn’t help be privately amused, although he’d refuse to ever actually show it.

He found that Harry was rarely far from his mind at all, even when he wasn’t in his presence. Just leftover feelings of making sure the troublemaker wasn’t up to something, Severus told himself.

Yes, that was it. It wasn't that he cared about what the boy was up to (certainly not), or even that he was interested in whatever nonsense he occupied himself with, it was just that he often found himself looking across every room he entered until he saw green eyes looking back, thought suspiciously (yes, suspicious, that's what it was, that was the correct feeling) about where the boy was when he wasn't in sight, and occasionally, upsettingly, wondered such ridiculous things as whether chocolate digestives or jam biscuits were Harry’s preferred accompaniment to tea.

Wait. When did he start thinking of him as “Harry”?

Oh, dear.

__________

"We have twenty minutes until we need to add the dandelion roots. After the final reaction, just cool and decant and we will be finished with this batch." Severus turned off the flame and began clearing the workstation.

"Tea break, then?" Asked Harry.

"If you must. Just make sure you're back in time to help me finish these up."

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, you dolt. Tea, the two of us together."

Severus tried very hard to fight the idiotic feeling of happiness brought on by the idea that Harry actually wanted to spend time with him. He berated himself for this absurd infatuation which he knew could never be returned. 

"As you wish," said Severus, deciding he was not strong enough to refuse the opportunity that presented itself and moving to sit in one of the armchairs by the fireplace. 

Harry called an elf for a tea service for two, which was quickly brought, and sat down in the chair next to him. 

He poured two cups of tea, added a bit of milk and one sugar (Harry remembered how he took it?) and presented a cup to Severus. As he took hold of the tea cup his fingers brushed against Harry's and for only a few seconds longer than necessary they stayed locked in that position, neither of them letting go of the cup. Severus simply stared at the spot where their fingertips met, willing himself to pull away from the contact. Before he could, the moment was passed, the cup was in his hand, and Harry had pulled back into his own chair, gaze averted and cheeks flushed. 

Just passing me a cup of tea, Severus thought, irritated and embarrassed by the flush of warmth in his chest. Harry would be horrified if he knew what Severus was thinking right now, about this ridiculous infatuation.

They sat together for several awkward minutes, sipping tea and looking into the fire. Harry kept appearing to be on the verge of speaking, thinking better of it, and taking another drink instead. Severus did not trust himself to say anything at all, desperately wondering if he would be able to sneak some firewhiskey into his cup without Harry noticing. 

Harry broke the silence first. “So you really did all this by yourself before? Keep up with the infirmary stock? On top of everything else?”

Severus nodded. “Occasionally I’d have some of the better NEWT students assist with the simpler batches.”

“I hope I’ve been helpful for you. I know in class I was...”

“An absolute nightmare?” Severus supplied, and Harry laughed.

“Yes, well, I hope I’ve grown up a bit.”

“You have,” Severus said softly, realizing the truth of it. He cleared his throat. “You’ve done a splendid job acting like you don’t hate being here with me. Quite courteous and pleasant,” Snape said, trying to keep out the bitter tone. He knew now that Harry was too kind to openly hate him, and maybe he even respected him a bit. But Severus could never hope for anything more than that. He wished again for some firewhiskey to soften the maudlin feeling rising up at the thought. 

But Harry looked up quickly, surprised, his gaze the intense green of an avada kedavra, and at the moment, just as terrifying. “No,” he said quickly. “I don’t hate it at all. I couldn’t...I don’t hate you,” he finished quietly. He looked suddenly very sad. “Do you still? Hate me very much?”

“No,” said Severus softly. “I don’t.”

Harry still looked sad, and nervous, and...something else Severus was unable to identify. Severus thought suddenly, absurdly of saying something wild like “I don’t ever want to hate you again”, or even worse: “I think I could love you”, but was mercifully interrupted by Harry speaking first. 

“Professor Snape,” he started nervously,” I was-”

“You can call me Severus,” said Severus, and it was impossible to tell which of the two were more shocked by it.

But Harry recovered quickly, and actually smiled (that terrible, wonderful smile). “Severus,” he said, trying the name out on his tongue and Severus’ mouth suddenly went dry. “Only if you call me Harry.”

Severus did not trust himself to actually do that, so he simply nodded. 

They chatted amicably, if still a little tensely for the remainder of their tea break. Severus knew why he could barely string a sentence together, loathe as he was to ever admit it, but couldn't fathom what Harry had to be so awkward about. 

They finished and bottled the potion and cleaned up the lab in a comfortable silence. 

"Good night...Severus," said Harry with a soft smile, still clearly testing out the use of his first name. 

"Good night, Harry," Severus returned softly, and as he watched the boy leave, he tried his very best to ignore that warm, fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach that felt just a little bit like hope. 

_________

As Severus was strolling through the empty corridors one evening he heard two voices in the midst of an argument. Severus rolled his eyes. It was too late for students to be in the halls, regardless of whatever captivating teenage drama there must be to be gossiping about. With the holidays coming up soon, students were getting more bold, as they tended to do. Perhaps Severus would be able to assign a detention, he thought gleefully. Or at least take house points. Hopefully from Gryffindor.

He stopped before swooping around the corner when he realized he recognized the voices.

“You can’t possibly be serious. I thought this was a crush!”

“No, you’re Sirius,” the other voice replied with a chuckle. “And it looks to be a bit more than that. Everyone can tell but him, I think. It's kind of sweet."

Lupin and Black? Black must be visiting the werewolf, but why would they care about someone’s crush? Intrigued despite himself, he paused to continue eavesdropping.

“There’s no way you’re actually allowing this!” Black sounded horrified. Someone he disapproved of? Who were they talking about?

“It isn’t really up to us to _allow_ , Sirius,” answered Lupin calmly. “Harry’s an adult, and quite mature if you haven’t noticed. And he deserves to be happy.”

Harry? Severus froze. Harry was dating someone? Interested in someone? Severus was surprised and horrified by the sudden surge of jealousy and anger. 

“Harry deserves better than that slimy snake! I have half a mind to drag him off to America until his head clears. He obviously has him under a love potion or something.”

“He doesn’t, Sirius,” Remus said with a sigh. “Let’s get out of the halls, we shouldn’t be talking about this out here anyway.”

Severus realized just in time that they were about to start walking in his direction, presumably to head to Lupin’s rooms. He turned quickly and stalked off, rounding corners at random until he was as far away as possible.

So. Harry was interested in someone. A _him_ , that was interesting. Severus fought back a flicker of feeling at that idea. _It’s not like you suddenly have a chance, you idiot_ , he berated himself. _Just means the list of people he’d prefer to be with instead of you is even longer than you previously thought._ Someone Black didn’t approve of. Could be any number of people. And...a snake? A Slytherin, maybe? A Slytherin student?

Severus paced the halls for a while, returned to his room and paced even longer, and lied in bed most of the night, turning restlessly and his thoughts running rampant.

He told himself over and over again that there was no way, no possibility, it would never happen in a hundred million years. But that quiet, treacherous voice in the back of his head reminded him of how Harry acted around him now, and how he smiled at him, and how Severus himself was a Slytherin male that Black certainly would not approve of…

No, he told himself. No, no, no.

But that awful traitorous idea refused to leave his briar patch mind. 

_What if?_

________

Harry hadn’t seemed to catch on to the fact that restocking the infirmary was a project that should be mostly finished by now. In fact, Severus continued to declare that this or that potion should really be added to the regular stocks, and owl orders for necessary ingredients conveniently kept getting delayed, stretching out the time it would take to move on to the next potion on the list. 

A few days before the winter hols were due to start, Harry and Severus had finished putting the last cap on the last bottle of Cure for Boils, a potion so simple Harry could definitely have completed it himself, but Severus had insisted on assisting with.

“Severus, I wanted to ask you something?” Harry said, busying himself with putting cleaning up the cauldron and clearing the workstation and averting his gaze.

“Yes?” Severus prompted. 

"Well, I’m having a Yule party next Saturday night. Nothing too big, just friends mostly...I would really love for you to come.” Harry sounded almost...hopeful? Or was he imagining it?

Absolutely not. Black and Lupin would be there, the entire Weasley brigade. He hated parties, and making small talk, and crowds. He had no desire to relive war stories or have to defend his actions as a spy when the guests started getting drunk and belligerent. He couldn't watch Harry flutter from one adoring friend to another while he hung to the walls and corners alone and wishing ridiculous and impossible things. 

And what if this object of Harry’s affections was there? He must be, wouldn’t he? If Harry was going to invite him of all people to his party, surely he’d invite this potential lover as well? There’s no possible way Severus would be able to bear that. No.

Harry looked at him with those sea green eyes and his cupid bow mouth parted in a bashful smile. "Please?" He asked, and Severus was helpless.

"If I must," he said, accepting the invitation and trying to quell the heart bursting joy that erupted when Harry's face broke out into a wide grin.

_______

Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was full of merrymaking, cheer, fine food, and alcohol, but Severus was only interested in the latter. He’d barely seen Harry yet besides a quick greeting and “Happy Yule”, before the boy had been pulled off by one of the Weasley’s to greet someone, or advise about a new broom, or...something. Severus couldn’t remember. His options were mingle with party guests or act surly and drink champagne in the corner, and he knew his strengths didn’t lie with polite small talk. The party was much larger than Harry had led him to believe, and he wasn’t sure whether Harry’s definition of “mostly friends” actually included this many people, or if some of the attendees had arrived uninvited.

He had been roped into a brief bit of conversation with Minerva, who seemed surprised yet pleased to see him there, and then Arthur, who wanted to tell him all about the new and fascinating things Muggles were doing with computers these days. He was pretty sure not half of what Arthur was saying could possibly be true, but he didn’t know enough about the cutting edge of Muggle technology to dispute it, so he just nodded along until he could excuse himself. 

He was greeted rather bizarrely by Black, who scowled at him and said, “Remus told me to be polite to you. So, hello. Happy Yule.” He was acting as if making the barely civil greeting was one step up from facing the Dementor’s Kiss. 

“Yes, well, don’t strain yourself,” replied Severus, caught rather off guard. He left quickly before Black could continue. He had no desire to converse with him, let alone try to figure out what that was supposed to be about. 

He wanted to go home, but he also wanted to see more of Harry, and that pathetic thought (and too much champagne) were the only thing keeping him here. He should just go before he made a fool of himself.

He couldn’t help but try to identify his...oh, Merlin, was he seriously about to think the word _competition_? He should leave before any of his idiotic thoughts escaped his lips. Setting his glass down and giving up on the whole night, he made his way towards the front door, attempting to slip out unnoticed. He was about to pass the doorway to the kitchen when he heard something that made him stop in his tracks. 

“So, come on! Harry won’t say a word, just tell us. Is he the secret crush then, really? We have a wager going on it.” he heard one of the Weasley twins ask.

Severus stayed back near the wall, still unnoticed by the group around the doorway in the kitchen. They were talking about Harry, and the mysterious crush. 

“I told you, I don’t know and I wouldn’t say anything even if I did!” answered someone else. Ronald, perhaps?

“Oi, it must be! Otherwise why’d he even invite Malfoy tonight?” 

He was seized with sudden clarity. Draco. Obviously. Of course it was Draco. Draco was a Slytherin. Black hated the Malfoy’s, obviously that’s what he was so upset about when he overheard him and Lupin in the halls. Severus was consumed with a sudden white hot pain. How could he have been so foolish? Draco was cultured, and intelligent. Attractive and wealthy, and he and Harry had that sort of playful animosity thing, didn’t they?

In what possible universe could Severus have even dreamed there was any possibility Harry could feel anything for him beyond begrudging respect? Who would choose a horrid, scarred, used up spy old enough to be his father? Severus made his way quickly to the door. Well, he was used to disappointment. He’d just have to get over it, and not find Malfoy and hex him into next week, and get out of here before he said anything stupid, especially before he ran into-

“Oh, there you are, Severus!” he heard Harry shout happily behind him, He swore inwardly. Don’t turn around. Keep walking and leave.

He turned around.

Harry smiled. “I’m so glad you were able to come. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to talk to you yet tonight,” he said running his hand awkwardly through that perpetually wild mop of black hair. 

“I was just going. Thank you for the invitation,” he said coldly, keeping his emotions in check.

Harry frowned. “So soon? Haven’t you…” He took sight of Severus and whatever he saw made him tilt his head in concern. “Are you alright?”

“Quite,” replied Severus tonelessly. “As I said, I must take my leave now.”  
“Stay,” Harry blurted out. He cast his eyes around the room, as if looking for a reason that would tether him there a little longer. “I think Draco was looking for you earlier…”

He couldn’t stop the sudden flush of rage at the idea. If Draco managed to find him at this moment, Severus was more likely to turn him into a ferret and toss him out the window than he was at offering anything in the realm of polite conversation. 

He turned to leave. “Goodbye, Potter.”

Harry appeared distraught. “Well, I’ll see you after the hols, right? We have all those other potions to get through. I was thinking of a few more,” he rambled until Severus cut him off.

“Actually, I think we are all set on the infirmary stock. You should be focusing on your exams once term starts. I’ll be sure to inform Poppy that I no longer require your help.”

The boy looked crushed, but Severus was so busy trying to hold onto his emotionless facade he had no time to ponder why. He walked purposefully out the front door and Apparated away as soon as he was able.

Harry probably thought Severus was angry with him, and that was fine by him. Better him think that than realize the pathetic truth of the matter (don’t think anything stupid, dont think the word jealous, don’t you dare think _heartbroken_ ). Harry would get over it, he had Draco to focus on now after all, and Malfoy would be an absolute idiot to turn him down.

Severus returned to his rooms to imbibe as much alcohol as he could and lick his wounds alone.

He would be fine, he always was. It was better this way, Severus told himself, and tried very hard to believe it.


	3. Winter, 1999

Harry was left staring stricken at the closed door, the crack of Apparation almost immediately after the slam evidence Severus was actually gone.

What had just happened?

He thought the party was going well! There had been plenty of people Severus would be willing to talk to, he'd made sure of it. Was he angry at him for not seeking him out? Harry had hoped they were at least tentative friends by now, even if he had little hope his feelings would ever be returned. Maybe he should have made him feel more welcome. 

He was trying to decide if it was a completely idiotic idea to follow him out when someone moved next to him with a low chuckle.

"Scare him off already, Potter?"

"Malfoy. Glad you could make it," Harry greeted him tonelessly, then realized what he had said. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"That little display just now. Did you scare him off before you could even confess your little crush?"

Harry stiffened. What, did Draco know? Did everyone know? Did _Severus_ know?

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy. The Professor and I are friends."

"Yes, obviously," said Draco, pausing to take a sip of champagne. "That's why he got drunk in the first half hour and stormed out of your party."

"You know I didn't invite you here so you can insult me, ferret face," Harry said with a scowl.

"Yes, why did you invite me anyway, Potter?" Draco asked, twirling the glass in his fingers and wearing an irritating little smirk. "Quite a few Slytherins at your little party." He looked around the party, nodding and smiling to the familiar faces of his former housemates. "People friendly with Professor Snape, who might make him feel more comfortable. Intriguing."

Harry considered his options. Leave politely. Hex that annoying little look off his face. Or...

"What is it you think you know, Malfoy?"

"Oh, please. It's written all over your pathetically open Gryffindor face. You fancy him."

Harry stayed quiet, but didn't attempt to deny it. A lot of people had seemed to guess this so far, Harry thought, embarrassed. Maybe he really was pretty bad at keeping it a secret. 

Draco studied him with a calculating look. "You're coming on too strong. Severus may have an unfortunate weakness for Gryffindors, but he is still a Slytherin."

Maybe he was being too much of a Gryffindor, trying to rush in clumsily. Is that what had annoyed Severus? Why he hadn't seemed to be picking up on any of his hints and overtures so far? 

Harry sighed. He supposed the Slytherin thing to do might be to make an alliance, unsavory prospect that it was. 

"Alright Malfoy. Was that the implication you had a suggestion for me?"

"Perhaps, Potter. Perhaps," he said with a smile.

_________

So it began, the attempt to _be more Slytherin_ , which apparently relied much more on being sly and not rushing into things. 

Needless to say, Harry was not overjoyed at following this advice. Well, if he really wanted to have a chance at pursuing Severus, he was going to have to play things much smarter than he was naturally inclined to do. He was going to be casual. He was going to drop tiny hints that Malfoy assured him Severus would pick up on, who was also "much more intelligent than you are, Potter." He was going to play hard to get, apparently. 

Well, Malfoy was close enough to Severus that the man had been willing to take an Unbreakable Vow to protect him, wasn't he? So Harry decided it was at least worth a shot. It was like that muggle nursery tale wasn't it's about the tortoise and the hare? _Slow and steady wins the race._

Harry contemplated just brewing some contraband veritaserum and forcing it down both their throats, but then decided that was probably much too Gryffindor a thing to do. Alas.

So he sent a polite but slightly generic Christmas card and did not write anything foolish about love. He did not insist to continue working with Severus for the infirmary after being told he was no longer required. He was determined to throw himself into his studies instead, intending to earn top marks on his NEWTs, begin a formal apprenticeship, become a Healer, make Severus fall in love with him somehow, and live happily ever after.

Yes, perfect. Brilliant plan. It was the "somehow" bit he was having some trouble with. 

He decided that no matter what Malfoy's stupid rules were, he was going to bring Severus a birthday gift. January ninth, he knew that much. He even got the git to reluctantly sign off on his choice, too. So win-win.

Harry knocked softly on Severus' door after dinner. He decided to deliver the gift himself, regardless of whether or not that was an appropriately Slytherin choice. Mostly he just wanted to see him in person again, he hadn't heard from him at all since the party.

The door opened and Harry entered, Severus still concentrating on the parchment in front of him, scrawling notes in cramped handwriting. Harry was reminded of the notes in the half blood prince's book and felt a sudden flush of happiness at the memory. He had been rather obsessed with the prince, hadn't he? It was hard to reconcile the clever writing in the margins of a potions book with the scowling man in front of him.

"This better be important," Severus said with a frown, still not looking up. "I'm very busy, and have no time to waste on dimwitted students."

"Well I'm technically not a student anymore," Harry said, and Severus' head snapped up at the sound. "And I'm hoping you'll waste a bit of time on me, whether I'm dimwitted or not," Harry said with a small smile.

Severus was staring at him intently, as if he wasn't quite sure he was really there. "Harry," he said with slight surprise. 

"I brought you something," Harry said, breaking up the awkwardness of the moment. He presented a wrapped box, green paper with white ribbon.

Now Severus was staring at the box, although now in trepidation. He made no move to take it. "Why?"

"Because it's your birthday. And I saw this and thought of you. Here," Harry said, setting the box down in front of him. 

Severus was apparently at a loss for words which was an interesting look for him. Severus began to unwrap the gift and Harry was suddenly very nervous.

The box carefully unwrapped and opened, Severus pulled out a long, elegant scarf. Harry had agonized over what type of gift to buy him, but finally decided (with a bit of Malfoy's help) on something practical but still lovely. The scarf was a fine black material, soft and comfortable, and lined in dark green trim. There was a serpentine design in silver thread along the edges to add detail. 

Harry had noticed Severus never went out in public without his collar buttoned all the way up his throat, barely any more skin than absolutely necessary showing. He hoped the scarf might at least give him some more options, if he was looking to cover the scar. 

Severus looked...well Harry wasn't exactly sure how he looked. Surprised, clearly. Confused, perhaps. He hoped happy, though that wasn't exactly a common look on the man's face so he couldn't be entirely sure. He wasn't angry or irritated, he didn't look like he was about to say _ten points from Gryffindor for getting me a terrible birthday gift._. 

Severus opened his mouth to say something, and Harry decided to try and buy himself a bit more goodwill before the silence was broken, whether with positive words or...otherwise. 

"I hope you like the design. Malfoy thought it was very smart and appropriately Slytherin," Harry said with a nervous laugh.

Whatever had been on Severus' face before then was immediately gone. 

"Draco helped you choose this," Severus said flatly, betraying no emotion on his suddenly still features. 

"Well, I picked it out, for you. I just wanted his opinion, since he knows you, of course." Harry ran his hand through the scribble of black hair on his head in an anxious gesture. Why did it suddenly feel as if all the air had been sucked out of the room?

Severus cleared his throat. "Well, please pass along my sincerest gratitude to your new… _friend_."

Harry frowned. He'd said the word 'friend' more like a curse. That was odd. "Malfoy and I aren't exactly friends...more like-"

"Thank you for the lovely gift," Severus interrupted, still emotionless and flat. "It was kind of you to think of me." Severus was still acting strangely, way more overly polite than Harry had ever seen him, especially when speaking to Harry. Even when they had been getting along these past few months he had never acted so stilted and formal. 

Harry wanted nothing more than to blurt out the first thing that came to mind, which could have been anything from "What's gotten into you?" to "I love you, please tell me you think you might ever love me back", but besides that fact that that would be a terrible idea, he heard Malfoy's bored and irritating voice in his head. Don't come on too strong. Don't be so brash. Always leave him wanting more.

So he just said "Happy birthday, Severus," with a soft smile. 

Severus looked at him and something Harry couldn't identify flashed in his dark eyes. "Thank you, Harry," he said quietly.

Don't be stupid, Harry berated himself. You brought him a present, he seemed to like it enough, he's being polite. Now leave before you say something you shouldn't. 

Severus didn't take his eyes off Harry as he bid him goodnight and headed back to his room in Gryffindor tower, that inscrutable expression on his face. 

Harry wasn't sure what to make of the entire interaction. Severus had seemed happy and then almost angry when he'd mentioned Draco. And at the end, there was another emotion, almost like...sadness?

But why? Harry tried to tell himself that by all accounts it had gone well. Severus seemed to like the gift. He'd been polite. Said thank you, even called him Harry. 

It went as well as could be expected.

So why did he feel so miserable?

________

Weeks went by, and Harry was becoming more and more certain that Malfoy's idea of dating advice was ineffective at best and completely moronic at worst.

He had thought he'd found a loophole and that spying again in his animagus form might be an appropriately sly and Slytherin thing to do, but he wasn't able to get much success that way either. The windows were closed and locked against the freezing winter air, so he couldn't visit. The ledge outside Severus' window was too small for him to comfortably rest on, and though he tried to sing as loudly as he could, severus either couldn't hear him or didn't care enough to come within sight of the window and investigate. 

He found himself distracted constantly in the (now excellently well stocked) infirmary, almost everything reminding him of Severus. He kept hoping maybe he might reach out and contact him, ask for help in the lab, but it never happened. Harry couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. He out on a smile with his friends, but the desire to just rush up to Severus and talk to him again was becoming impossible to ignore. The very few times they'd crossed paths in several weeks, Severus had continued that emotionless civility and Harry couldn't understand why. He missed the arguments that had become more like companionable teasing towards the end of last year. He missed that he was actually beginning to enjoy learning about potions, now that he and his teacher weren't constantly at odds. He missed spending time with the clever and witty potions master almost every day. 

He just missed Severus. 

_________

One day, several weeks into whatever this "plan" was, Harry was definitely not sulking in his usual spot in the forest. He had brought some textbooks with him so he could attempt to study, but he hadn't gotten very far, since he'd been staring at the same page on Dittany for the last ten minutes and comprehended absolutely none if it.

He wondered idly if that fox that used to hang around was anywhere nearby. He could use a visit from his furry friend right about now, he hadn't seen him since before the holidays. Probably holed up in his den somewhere warm. Do foxes hibernate? Harry wondered. He had no idea. 

He was about to give up on finding the fox or getting any meaningful revising done when he caught sight of a shock of red hair out of the corner of his eye. The fox! He thought, surprised, and then realized it was a different familiar face.

"Hullo, Harry," Ginny greeted him. "What are you doing out here in the cold?"

"I'm…" Harry glanced at the books he'd barely touched. "Revising."

Ginny looked doubtful. With a flick of her wand she renewed the warming charms on Harry and the surrounding area and sat down next to him.

"Are you all right?" She asked gently, lightly putting her hand on his. 

"Yes. I'm...no, not really," Harry admitted. 

"Is it that you fancy someone?" Ginny pressed.

"Isn't that weird to talk about? With you? After-" Harry made a gesture with his hand in an attempt to indicate "their entire short lived relarionship".

"Oh, Harry, I'll always care about you, and you're always going to be family. I just want you to be happy, and everyone can see you're upset about...something." Ginny looked as if she was pretty sure what that "something" might be. 

Harry sighed and looked away. Everyone else seemed to know it. Might as well just admit it. "I fancy Severus Snape."

Ginny just nodded, confirming how absolutely obvious it was. 

"Ah. I thought you might. How's that going, then?"

Harry just looked at her. "Oh it's wonderful. We talk all the time about how in love we are. Didn't you receive the wedding invitation?"

Ginny chuckled. "Haven't you even talked to him yet? Or do you just moon over him all day and pout in the forest?"

"I'm not...pouting."

Ginny just stared again, her eyebrow quirked and head tilted. 

"So you don't care that I've fallen for the 'nasty old dungeon bat', then?"

"Well if that's what you think of him, I don't imagine you really have fallen for him," said Ginny. 

Harry shook his head. "No. That isn't what I think at all," he said quietly.

Ginny searched his face for a moment, then seemed satisfied with what she saw. "Last year, when Snape was Headmaster, everything went...better than it should have."

Harry scrunched his brow, confused. "What do you mean, better? I've heard about all the awful things that were going on."

"And they were. But I was thinking about it recently. I know what you said publicly, about the real story behind when Dumbledore...died," she said, still stuttering a bit over the words. She recovered quickly and continued, "and about his true motivations. But when I think about all the detentions with Hagrid, instead of the Carrows, and how we always thought we were one step ahead of him…" she trailed off, still lost in the memory.

"What are you saying, Ginny? You think he was helping you?"

She nodded. "I do. I don't know how he managed it, trying to appear to everyone as the loyal Death Eater while working against them the entire time. And keeping all the students as safe as he could. He looked absolutely awful that whole year, which we were all very unkind about, and I regret it now. He probably didn't get a decent night's sleep that whole year."

Harry had suspected as much. Knowing the true motivations and Severus' allegiances, he knew the man had been juggling the safety of the students in his care with his responsibilities to staying in Voldemort's good graces. How harrowing and lonely that must have been for him. He smiled slightly at Ginny, grateful she acknowledged it too.

Ginny lightly squeezed Harry's hand. "I believe that he is a good man, Harry. I only worry that he wouldn't be very good to you. He certainly isn't...easy to get along with."

Harry sighed. "That's for certain." He leaned his head on her shoulder, grateful he could be casually affectionate with her, but as friends. "He is though. Good. And he's funny and witty and clever and I just...I just want to love him. And I want him to love me."

"Well, he'd be stupid not to," Ginny said with an authoritative tone. 

"Sometimes I think he must know it, and he's avoiding me on purpose because he doesn't feel the same way," Harry said dejectedly. "But sometimes I catch him looking at me, and I wonder…"

"Oh I know! Do you want me to challenge him to a duel for you?" Ginny asked, with a glint of excitement. 

"A duel? What? Why would you do that?" Harry asked, shocked. 

"Oh, it's an old tradition. For your honor. Since I'm a former paramour of yours, I can formally challenge him. If he accepts, then he accepts your suit. And if he defeats me, it proves he's earned your love," Ginny explained with a bit of a dreamy look. "It's a bit romantic actually."

"I, uh, don't think that'll be necessary."

Ginny nodded solemnly, then smirked. "Because you're worried I'd win, right?

Harry burst out laughing. "Oh, Gin. Don't ever change."

"Why would I?" She asked, affronted. "I'm wonderful. Now, let's go back to the castle before these charms wear off and you freeze to death."

________

"Excellent work, Harry!" exclaimed Remus, complementing his particularly advanced defence spellwork. 

"Well, I should hope so," said Harry. "Can't have the boy who lived getting anything less than an O on the Defense NEWT." He was trying for a joking tone, but it just fell flat and melancholy. 

Remus studied him. "You will get an O, Harry, because you're an intelligent wizard with great skill."

Harry looked down. "Thank you, Remus."

"What's wrong, Harry?"

He sighed. "Nothings wrong. Just a bit tired. With my studies and everything."

Remus looked at him with concern. "Are you sure? You can tell me anything, you know."

Harry considered Remus' tone...that knowing look. "Oh, bloody hell," he groaned. "Does everyone know? Do you all have meetings about this when I'm not around?"

"Your friends and family all love you, Harry, myself very much included," said Remus. "You've clearly been upset lately. Did you say something about this to Severus? Was he cruel to you?" He asked, concerned. 

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "He's barely even spoken to me since the holidays. I hardly ever see him, and I haven't told him anything because Malfoy says I need to be more Slytherin."

"Malfoy?" Remus asked. "Since when do you take advice from Malfoy?"

Harry sank into a nearby chair, his head dropped into his hands. "Since I lost control of my life, apparently. He says I need to be less brash, play hard to get, that sort of thing."

Remus sat down at the table next to him. "I've known Severus a long time. He's never been very...open with anyone. I don't even know if he's actually had much of a romantic connection with anyone, and I don't think he expects anything like that now. And I don't think he'd realize your feelings for him unless you burst in like a Gryffindor and smack him in the head with them."

Harry laughed. "Well that's a better idea than what I've been doing, anyway." He paused, and considered for a moment. "You know, you should probably be a little bold and brash yourself. Talk to Sirius."

Remus' eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, Remus," Harry said with a chuckle. "I don't think I'm the only one who's this obvious. I've known for awhile."

Remus nodded, and then smiled slightly. "Alright. I will if you will."

Harry stared at him levely, then squared his shoulders. "Like a Gryffindor?"

"Like a Gryffindor."

________

He was going to do it. Be a Gryffindor, and burst in. Ask Severus out for drinks, or dinner, and have a proper date. And if Severus hexed him, or laughed at him, or even just stood there stricken and horrified, well then at least he would finally _know_. It would all be out in the open. 

He knocked on the door with much more confidence than he felt. He waited. Then knocked again. Frowned. Continued. He should definitely be here. 

Well, this was an unexpected glitch in his grand plan. He could try a password, but he didn't know it. He was considering a few likely guesses when he noticed the portrait beside the door, a nature landscape with a large green snake twined around the branch of a tree. He had barely given the painting much thought, since there wasn't any people in it, so no one was moving or talking. But as he focused on the snake he realized it was looking back at him, its head tilted to the side.

"Do you know the password to Professor Snape's room?"

The snake blinked, but did not respond.

Harry tried again, this time in Parseltongue. The snake perked up quite a bit at that. 

_You're a speaker?_ , the snake hissed. 

_Yes_ , Harry replied. _It's nice to meet you. I'm trying to visit the Professor. Is he inside?_

_He is. Perhaps he does not wish to see you._

Perhaps he didn't, Harry thought. But he had to act while still filled with Gryffindor courage, so it was now or never. 

_I need to speak to him. Would you please tell me the password?_

The snake appeared to consider. 

_Please? As a favor, one speaker to another?_

_Just this once_ , the snake hissed. _The password is vulpes._

The door opened and he stepped inside cautiously. "Severus? Severus, are you here?"

No answer. 

He closed the door behind him and walked around the small apartment, but Severus was nowhere to be found. He could hear the crackle from the fireplace, but no one was sitting in the chairs in front of it. He rounded the corner to take a closer look.

And there, curled up on the rug in front of the fire was...a fox.

Harry stood for a moment dumbfounded. Snape was nowhere in sight. Just a fox. 

A fox that looked just like the one he'd spent so many visits with last autumn. And had pet! A fox who had on multiple occasions fallen asleep on his lap.

All foxes look similar, Harry tried to tell himself. There's definitely a reasonable explanation that there was a fox in Severus' room, but no Severus. A reasonable explanation besides the fact that Severus was secretly an animagus who had been spying on him. Harry's immediate feeling of anger was quickly quashed down by the knowledge that he had been doing the exact same thing. And something decidedly pleasant about the fact that Severus had been seeking him out, and was way more affectionate as a fox then he needed to be to keep up the ruse. 

Harry tried to make some noise to alert Severus to his presence and wake him up, but he was oddly unresponsive. 

Harry frowned and moved closer to where Severus lay on the rug. His breathing seemed extremely labored and… _his neck_. The fur there was patchy and mostly fallen out, the skin underneath looked inflamed with strips of black.

Had the venom spread? Was he in pain?

Harry knew he couldn't get much farther when Severus was in animagus form, so he crouched to pick up the sleeping fox, his head lolling to side, and carried him into the bedroom. Harry performed the spell to turn an animagus back into human form, and was shocked by the terrible state the man was in.

Severus was more pale than he'd ever seen him, feverish and sweating. He seemed barely conscious, but was at least moving and breathing, heavy and irregular as it was. 

But the snakebite wound was nothing short of horrifying. It was worse than when he'd first seen it, the entire side of his neck shot through with the necrotic black rot of the venom, the dark and gritty substance dried on the skin where it had leaked out like infectious pus. 

Harry set to work gathering the supplies he needed from the lab, wound cleaning potion, pain potion, antibiotics, anything else he could think of. 

When he got back, Severus appeared to be a little closer to consciousness, muttering something Harry couldn't understand. "Shh, it all right...I'm here." He hoped whispering a few platitudes would comfort him, and Severus did seem to settle down a bit. He opened his eyes but he couldn't seem to fixate on Harry's face, searching wildly. Harry set to work cleaning the wound, and carefully administered various potions, using a spell to ensure he could drink them without choking. He set to work on performing the spell to clean the wound of dark magic, realizing it would require quite a few sets before the wound was close to healthy again. He must have missed it for the past few days. Harry stamped down the anger and fear that swelled up in response to the understanding that it had gotten this bad without anyone noticing. 

The pain potion must have kicked in, because although Severus was clearly extremely uncomfortable it didn't appear to be unbearable. He got through a couple sets of the spell before deciding he probably couldn't take much more without resting. 

"Harry," Severus whispered. 

"Shh, you need to rest right now, Severus. Don't talk. I'm going to get you some more help."

"No!" Severus rasped, as forcefully as he could muster. "Don't leave." He thrust out his hand and grabbed onto Harry's. "Stay."

Harry looked at the pleading gaze and their clasped hands. "Of course I'll stay," he said quietly. "Go to sleep now. I'm right here."

Harry summoned a chair from the other room and pulled it close to the bed. He would stay until Severus fell asleep, and then go get Madame Pomfrey, he told himself. Just until then. He settled into the chair and rested his head against the back. He watched Severus calm and then close his eyes. Harry stayed in the chair, inches away, and watched him fall asleep, their hands still entwined.


	4. Spring, 1999

When Severus groggily came into consciousness, he noticed three things at once. A pounding headache, a heavy and too warm blanket over him and the feeling of someone else's hand holding his. 

The third was the most unfamiliar, most disconcerting, and far and away the most pleasant. 

He opened his eyes, slowly, determined not to alert whoever was with him that he was awake.

Seated in a chair pushed up against his bed, glasses askew and head lolled against the wingtip back of the armchair, was Harry bloody Potter.

Perfect. 

Before he could decide how best to extricate himself from this situation (and how to stop feeling things he would rather not be feeling, his hand still clasped in the boy's), Harry blinked sleepily and shifted up. His eyes were red, with bags underneath, obviously cramped up in a chair was not a restful way to spend the night. His hair stuck up in wild directions and there was a red mark from the chair imprinted on the scarred half of his face. 

"Hey," Harry said softly. He did not remove his hand.

Severus scrambled for something appropriate to say. "You look terrible," is what came out. 

Harry scoffed. "That's rich, coming from you. How do you feel?"

"Perfectly fine. Why are you here, Potter?"

Harry looked unhappy. "Oh, it's Potter again, now?" He seems to realize their hands were still clasped and removed his. Severus felt a sudden pang at the loss. What had happened? Why was he in bed and why was Harry there, looking angrily at him?

"I'm sure you can show yourself out now," Severus said with more uncertainty than he wanted to show. He cleared his throat. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Well, I came to talk to you and found you passed out on the rug." He gestured wildly towards Severus' neck. "You're lucky I found you when I did!"

Passed out on the rug? That seemed…well, that was actually pretty likely. Severus had gotten into the habit of drinking, shifting into the less troubled mind of a fox and falling asleep in front of a fire. 

Wait, had he been a fox when Harry had found him? Oh, no. He tried to remember the previous night and found it was mostly a blur. 

Severus decided that if Harry wasn't going to bring up anything about finding a fox, then he certainly wouldn't be the first to do so.

Harry seemed to take his silence in stride and continued on unfazed. "How long has it been since you've paid any attention to the snakebite wound, Severus?" He said angrily. "I did what I could last night and managed to get it mostly clear of the venom, but I'll need to do another set or two today."

What did he think he was doing, bursting into his room and casting complicated spells on his person, healing or otherwise? Severus had shifted from uncertain to enraged. Why had he suddenly come to visit him anyway, he'd all but ignored Severus these past weeks, probably cavorting with Draco or any other string of paramours. 

"You most certainly will not! I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you."

"Oh, clearly! That's why I walk in and find you half dead! Now shut up and let me look at it." 

Severus sat up in bed, prepared to defend himself from the incoming tirade, but before he could open his mouth the boy continued.

“No, you aren’t allowed to say anything!” Harry shouted. He moved closer, and peeled back the collar of his already open shirt, exposing the entire scar and most of his shoulder. Severus was shocked by the boys tone, his suddenly exposed state, and the difference between Harry's tone of voice and the gentleness of touch with which he was examining the wound.

“When you let yourself get this sick, even though you live a few steps away from every potion you could need, or a whole infirmary, and plenty of people who care about you, if only you’d let them.”

Harry moved his hands along the path of the black venom in his veins, with a light and professional touch. 

"You must really care about me," Severus said in a tone he very much hoped was mocking and sarcastic. 

Harry was suddenly very quiet. 

Severus turned sharply to look at him. "No," he said, more a command than a question. 

"How can you say that to me?" Harry asked with a sad smile. "That's what I was coming to talk to you about," he continued, nervously at first then gaining courage. "How much I've missed you. And that I think about you all the time. And that I'd like us to be friends again." He hesitated. "Actually. I'd like for us to be a bit more than friends."

Severus felt a sudden tightness in his throat he knew wasn't from Nagini's venom, but the hands too close around his neck, the emotion they imparted too much to handle. "Stop," he forced out, much weaker than he intended.

Harry stilled his movements but did not remove his hands. "Why?"

What was Severus supposed to say? That he had no idea how to allow Harry's continued kindness, the tenderness in his touches? How impossible it was to allow the already thin shell of an emotional barrier to stand up under the onslaught of care and empathy that Harry radiated? How he had absolutely no frame of reference for dealing with what Harry had just admitted? He settled for the only thing he could think of that he would be able to say that was still true.

"It hurts."

Harry searched his face for a long moment, then appeared to come to some sort of determination. 

"I'll be gentle with you, then," he said softly, and began the incantation to clear the small bit of dark magic remaining in the wound. 

Severus steeled himself and determined not to think about anything at, not Harry, not the pain, not the impossible hope at the phrase _more than friends_.

"You're doing so good," Harry muttered, stopping a moment to brush the fallen hair back out of Severus' face and move it back behind his ear. He stroked the limp, dark strands a few times, and Severus wanted to scoff at the fact Harry was treating him like a child, if not for the sheer comfort the tenderness of his touches was bringing. 

By the time Harry had finished the second set of the spell, Severus' entire body was trembling and he was ashamed to realize his eyes were wet. It wasn't the worst pain he'd ever been in (he could thank multiple rounds with the Cruciatus and the Dark Lord's displeasure for that), but something about this had seemed excruciating in a personal way, with Harry so close for such a long period of time, a witness to his anguish. 

Although the procedure was over, Harry did not move away. Severus continued staring off to the side, refusing to meet Harry's gaze for fear of what he would find there. Disgust? Or worse, pity? Severus took several shaky breaths, determined to calm down and regain control of the situation. Perhaps he was very lucky, and Harry hadn't noticed his tears. Why wasn't he leaving? Or yelling at him about his reckless approach to his lifelong ailment?

"All over, Severus," said Harry softly. "I'm so sorry it hurt so much. How do you feel?"

After a few moments, when Severus was sure he could keep his voice under control, he answered. "Fine," he said, with only a slight tremor. He cleared his throat with a cough and continued more clearly, "I'm sure this is the part where you make some grandiose speech? Save me the theatrics."

He then made the mistake of turning to face Harry. What he saw in those bright green eyes wasn't indignation, or disgust, or even pity. Harry just looked miserable. 

"Do you think I enjoy seeing you in pain? It's awful. I feel terrible that I haven't been here to help you when you needed it."

"You can't possibly mean what you said earlier. If you pity me, you can show yourself out before I do it for you."

"I don't pity you. I care about you."

"Oh, and what does your dear Draco think about all this? Does he know you're here?"

Harry looked completely taken aback. "What? What does Malfoy have to do with any of this? We're barely even friends."

Oh. Well, perhaps there may have been a misunderstanding or two. But if not Draco, then who…?

"I overheard your godfather months ago, talking to the werewolf. About some crush you had on a Slytherin and how he didn't approve." Severus crossed his arms. "Who was that, then?"

Harry tried unsuccessfully to hide a smirk. "Yeah, that would have been you, Severus." He chuckled. I think everyone knew. I am apparently not very subtle." Harry shrugged. "Well, except with you, I suppose."

Severus was having a difficult time wrapping his head around this concept. What, precisely, did someone like Harry possibly see in him?

"How?" Severus asked simply.

"Harry just moved closer, setting himself on the bed beside Severus. "I just do," he said quietly. 

Severus gestured to the scar torn around his neck. "How do I not disgust you?" He asked bitterly.

Harry moved his hand to the beginning branches of the scar on Severus' jaw. "I love how you look. I love your scars. They're just proof of how brave you are."

Severus had nothing to say to that, and did not think he was capable of replying even if he did. 

"These are keloid scars," Harry said, tracing along the thick ropes. He moved all over the flesh, gently stroking the knots and divots in Severus' skin. He reached the end of the lines on his upper chest. Then hesitated, holding the shirt fully open and pulled back exposing Severus' shoulder. "I learned all the names for scars." He waited, silently asking permission and Severus swallowed, nodding a quick assent. 

"Hypertrophic," Harry continued, trailing fingers along the darkly pigmented dots and lines decorating his shoulder. 

He moves gentle fingers over every blemish, naming them quietly, diagnosing each one. 

Further down, Harry lingers for a moment on the small, tight expanse of shiny skin along his side, a souvenir from an exploding cauldron and a boiling potion many years ago. 

"Contracture," he says softly, more question than statement. But he does not ask the implied "what burned you?", and Severus is glad for it, because at this moment, the answer would be "you".

He moved back up to Severus' throat, as if drawn to the gnarled mass of twisted and red flesh like a moth to a flame. His strokes became bolder, and he was so close to Severus that he could feel Harry's warm breath on his skin. 

Harry ran his fingertips lightly further down, until he reached the edges of the scar. He felt along the tattered criss cross of lines as if committing him to memory, and then, as if seized by a sudden need to be closer, lowered his mouth to it. He traced the raised and knotted flesh with his tongue and lightly bit at it the skin. 

Harry continued the light nips and scraping with his teeth against the flesh, until Severus' breathing began to grow harsher, less even. Harry sucked at the pulse point until Severus let out the beginning of a moan before clamping his mouth shut.

"Do you like that," Harry whispered. Severus bit back another whimper. 

Harry brought his fingers up to the man's lips and dragged the bottom one down a bit. "Don't do that," said Harry. "I want to hear you."

Severus could not remember the last time he'd felt anything like this. Harry, here, in his bed, warm and alive, and touching him and _looking at him like that_.

He had no other choice, no possible other option at this moment than to kiss Harry like his life depended on it. 

Harry grunted in surprise, then kissed back just as passionately. Severus could feel his smile against his mouth and found himself returning it.

Harry moved over Severus until he was straddling his lap, his knees on either side of Severus' hips, his hands roaming over his chest. Severus' hands were tangled in Harry's hair and he hadn't stopped kissing him for a moment. 

He was hard as a rock, he realized with a moan, and found himself involuntarily thrusting against Harry, who appeared to be in the exact same predicament. 

Harry continued kissing along and his jaw and neck and reached down to free the bulge from Severus trousers. As soon as Harry's hand made contact with his flesh, he knew he was not going to last very long. 

"I haven't...it's been…" Severus tried to grasp out, although forming coherent sentences was not his strong suit at the moment. 

Harry seemed to understand what he was trying to admit without saying. "Oh, me neither." Harry smiled and leaned in for another kiss. "That's okay. I'm sure we can figure it out."

Several more enthusiastic strokes was all it took for him, and Harry was caught up in the passion enough (or perhaps just young enough) that he followed shortly after, thrusting against him in the same motion he'd been storming Severus.

"That was...terribly fast," Severus said, embarrassed. 

Harry cast a quick cleaning charm over both of them. "Probably both too pent up," he said with a chuckle. "We can go again soon. Harry smiled and settled against him. "Benefit of having a randy young lover."

Already a promise of a next time? Of course, Severus wasn’t exactly drowning in experience, having a lover (young and randy or otherwise) being so quite new he scarcely knew how to react. Although, logic would dictate that someone coming in their pants just from rutting against him and stroking him off, meant that Harry probably liked Severus at least a little. 

Severus grasped at the last word Harry had said and just repeated it, at a loss for what else to say.

"Lover?"

"Well, yes." Harry flushed a bit. "I'd like to be. If...if you'll have me."

"If I'll have _you_?" Severus asked incredulously. "Are you mad?"

Harry just smiled. "I've been told that before."

Harry shifted against him, and after a moment Severus found himself leaning back. He tentatively lifted an arm around Harry's shoulders, and Harry settled against his chest. It was incredibly pleasant, laying together with someone, their warm body pressed against his. Severus absentmindedly ran his fingers through Harry's hair, tangling in the dark, messy locks. Harry sighed contentedly and moved his hand to Severus chest, holding his hand over the steady but still quick heartbeat.

"So what happens next?" Severus asked.

"Right now? Or all the rest?" Harry asked. "Right now I'd like to stay like this awhile."

"And...all the rest?"

"Well, we could date I suppose. Go out for dinner. See a movie. Host a game night with my friends."

"How pedestrian. And horrifying."

Harry chuckled. "We could run away to Spain and make love in the moonlight?"

"That sounds much better."

________

Spain, it seemed, was not presently on the agenda, as Severus had to both finish recovering and "gain some sense" (according to Harry, Minerva, Poppy, and anyone else who dared speak to him like that) before he was permitted out of anyone's sight again. 

Things didn't suddenly change over night, but as the weeks went on, Severus found himself filled with the very peculiar and foreign warmth of _happiness_. Having a lover, particularly one as infuriating beautiful and unbearably kind as Harry did wonders for the constitution, apparently. 

Severus continued to teach and Harry continued to study but they found themselves together more often than apart. As much as he might have hoped to keep this (surely this wasn't truly a _relationship_ , he was just biding his time until Harry was cured of whatever delirium kept him coming back to Severus' rooms every day), this _association_ a secret, it was an impossible feat. It appeared the entire castle, and a few others besides, already knew there knew something between the two of them long before their actually was. 

Severus wasn't sure whether this should please or horrify him, but sparkling green eyes and the press of cupid's bow lips kept him from caring about what anyone besides Harry thought.

He did end up going out to dinner with Harry, and a movie, and even a blasted game night at the Weasley's which he couldn't believe he actually agreed to. It was even more surprising that he and Ronald had made a shockingly good team. 

Well, only after he and Harry were forcibly separated for 'cheating'. Perhaps the boy had a bit of a Slytherin side after all, he thought proudly.

Severus secret identity as a fox animagus didn't stay secret for long. It came out one day in an absentminded comment from Harry that he was "much more cuddly as a fox". Although he had expected to be teased about his increasingly pathetic displays last autumn, the mocking never came.

In fact, Harry had revealed his own secret. "I guess I don't have much place to talk," he had said with a nervous edge to his voice. "Since I did exactly the same thing."

Severus had just stared, uncomprehending, until Harry whistled an unmistakably familiar tune.

"You're the nightingale. From last summer. You sang for me," Severus said incredulously.

"I'll always sing for you," Harry said with a laugh. "Whether you want me to or not." Then he sang the lines that went with the tune. _"Dream a little dream of me." ___

__"So. All this time you'd been harassing me as a songbird."_ _

__"Mmmhmm. And you'd been "harassing" me a fox," Harry completed his thought. "We probably should have just talked to each other as humans. Might have saved us a bit of trouble."_ _

__"Nonsense," Severus replied. "Now why ever would we have done that?"_ _

__As winter turned to spring, and spring sat on the cusp of summer, Severus was finally starting to realize that he was alive. He has survived the war, he had his whole life ahead of him. And maybe, just maybe, he had Harry, too. There was a promise of a future in which he could be...happy._ _

__Happy. What a novel idea._ _

___________ _

__

__Severus was nervously putting the finishing touches on his outfit. He'd gone back and forth on tying back his hair or just letting it hang loose like he usually did. He scowled at his reflection. What was the use?_ _

__Harry was throwing what was expected to be the party of the century at Grimmauld Place. Ostensibly a celebration of both his friend's Hogwarts graduation and his acceptance to a Healer apprenticeship (All O's and two E.E.'s on Harry's NEWTs, and who was ever going to turn down the Boy Hero anyway?) everyone Harry had ever met was expected to make an appearance._ _

__What was he doing? Make nice with former student and former enemies? Trying to convince anyone he was actually deserving of the best thing that had ever happened to him? Was a silver clasp in his hair supposed to accomplish that?_ _

__"Severus, are you ready?" Harry's voice broke into his maudlin thoughts as he entered the bedroom._ _

__Harry smiled. "You look nice."_ _

__Severus just scowled._ _

__"What are you doing with that?" Harry asked, gesturing to the clasp. "You don't usually wear your hair up."_ _

__"Nothing," he said with a grimace, and tossed the hair clip on top of the dresser._ _

__"What's wrong?" Harry asked, concerned. "Is it the party? Everything is going to be fine. I've talked to Sirius. And my friends like you. And if anyone has a problem with us being together they can leave."_ _

__Severus scoffed. "How long are you intending to carry on this charade, Harry?"_ _

__Harry searched his face. Then hopped up onto the dresser in front of Severus, took hold of his hands and pulled the man towards him._ _

__"Hey. I love you, Severus. You're thinking too much."_ _

__Severus tried very hard to keep his breathing from speeding up, both at their proximity and how casually Harry said something as impossible to understand as _I love you_. _ _

__"Oh? What should I be doing?"_ _

__Harry smirked, and pulled him in for a kiss. Severus melted against him, threading his fingers through Harry's hair, and deepening the pressure. What a delightful alternative to thinking._ _

__Harry pulled away first, although reluctantly._ _

__"So, what's your favorite thing about how I look today?" Harry asked Severus with a lopsided grin._ _

__"What an obvious tactic to get a compliment. Your subtlety leaves much to be desired, Harry."_ _

__Harry ignored his comment and moved closer, resting his hand on the other man's arm, and continued in a teasing tone. "Is it the smart dress robes? My hair? My face? My new bowtie?"_ _

__Severus raised an eyebrow and noted the crimson and gold fabric tied in a loose bow at Harry's neck. "That monstrosity? It isn't even tied correctly." Severus bridged the distance between them and corrected the tie, smoothing out the fabric until it was even._ _

__Severus and Harry were inches apart, so close he could feel the other man's breath on his face. The tiny motion of Harry biting his bottom lip and the subtle flush of his cheeks proved to be too much to bear for Severus. He captured Harry's lips with his in a quick kiss, his hands still holding onto Harry's tie, pulling him closer._ _

__"Come on, Severus," Harry said with a giddy laugh. "We're going to be late."_ _

__"Then let's be late," Severus replied with a smirk._ _

__Harry rolled his eyes but continued to smile. He turned to the mirror to readjust his tie._ _

__"You swot! You turned it green and silver on me! While you were distracting me," Harry said with a pout._ _

__"Looks much better this way, I think."_ _

__Harry reached for Severus' hair and twisted a lock around his fingers. "Git," he said, and gently tugged the strands._ _

__"If you do that again," Severus said with a breathy voice against Harry's ear. "We're most certainly going to be late." Harry shivered._ _

__Needless to say, they were a bit late to the party._ _

____________ _

__It didn't take long after their arrival for he and Harry to become separated. Harry had been needed to oversee something or other, and though Severus was loathe to give him up, the memory of what had occurred just before was enough to keep him in a good mood._ _

__He partook in some wine and meandered throughout the house, stopping to chat amicably with the other guests._ _

__Minerva appeared next to him. "Enjoying yourself, Severus?" She asked._ _

__"Quite," he replied. "Sick to death of the Headmistress title yet? At least the year is over."_ _

__"And yet it never stops, does it? At least the castle is finally completely repaired, the last stone set in this week, actually."_ _

__Minerva shifted her cool gaze to where Harry was talking excitedly across the room, then back to Severus, who had not taken his eyes off of him. "I see you and Harry appear to be doing well."_ _

__"Yes," he said guardedly. "While it lasts."_ _

__Minerva looked surprised, and then irritated. "Severus. Don't tell me you're toying with the young man's emotions."_ _

__"Just being realistic, Minerva. How long do you truly expect him to stay with me?"_ _

__Now Minerva was angry. "You honestly think Harry of all people would be disloyal?"_ _

__"Not disloyal. But honestly, Minerva." Severus trailed off, unsure of how to end that comment._ _

__Minerva's face softened. "Oh, Severus. Harry truly cares about you. And you deserve to be happy." She gave his arm a comforting squeeze. "You both do."_ _

__"Thank you, Minerva," Severus said quietly. He was genuinely grateful for her support._ _

__"Of course, he's still one of my lions," she said, pausing to take a sip of her drink. "So if you ever hurt him, I'll be forced to kill you."_ _

__Severus started to laugh, but there was no humor in her features. He coughed, then nodded solemnly. "Of course."_ _

__She nodded to him, then moved to mingle with the rest of the party. "Enjoy the party, Severus."_ _

__Only a few minutes after she had departed, Severus was amusing himself by studying various pictures on the walls when who should appear but Black and Lupin._ _

__This wasn't the first time he'd spoken to either of them since he and Harry started...associating. but it was the first time Harry wasn't present to act as a buffer._ _

__"Severus," Remus greeted warmly. "It's good to see you. You're looking well."_ _

__"Lupin, Black," he inclined his head towards them. "I trust you're doing well." He could be polite. For Harry. Provided this didn't go on too much longer._ _

__"You're looking well," Black said stiffly. Lupin nudged him with an elbow. "Harry seems happy. So. I hope you two are happy together." He looked to Lupin for conformation this had been the correct thing to say, who nodded._ _

__"Thank you," Severus said, surprised by the sincerity in his own voice._ _

__"You know, no matter what you do, you are never going to deserve him," Sirius said and Remus started to hiss a response._ _

__"I know," said Severus simply. Black looked at him for a moment and seemed satisfied with what he saw._ _

__"Well, enjoy the party. Come on, Moony."_ _

__Remus held back a moment. "You really do look happy, Severus. It's nice to see it," he said with a slight smile, then turned to follow Sirius out._ _

__"Remus," Severus called without thinking. He turned in slight surprise. "I'm happy for you too," he said, gesturing to where Black had just been standing. "Both of you."_ _

__"They weren't giving you a hard time were they?" Harry said from behind him. Severus turned and found the young man in his common stance, flanked by Granger and Weasley. He greeted them both._ _

__"Surprisingly, no," Severus told Harry. "It seems not nearly as many people are attempting to burn me at the stake as I had anticipated."_ _

__"Well, we won't try anything like that," said Ron. "Unless you try to pull another winning hand out of nowhere next game night." He looked suspiciously between Harry and Severus._ _

__Severus looked pointedly at Harry. "Again, you failed to provide any proof we were not simply very lucky, Mr. Weasley."_ _

__Ron shook his head. "Whatever you say, Snape. Just let Mum know what color you want your jumper in at Christmas. I'm guessing black?"_ _

__Severus glanced at Harry, horrified. "What's the meaning of this?"_ _

__Hermione just laughed. "Sorry, Professor. If you're seeing Harry, you've got all the Weasley's too. Just try to enjoy it," she said, shooting Severus a sympathetic look._ _

__"Well, at least you didn't run into Professor McGonagall," said Harry. "She cornered me and gave me some big speech about how you were one of her dearest friends and if I hurt you, she'd have to kill me."_ _

"Did she," Severus said, hiding his smile by taking a sip of wine. "Well, I'd endeavor not to get on her bad side, then." 

__They continued chatting for a bit, and Severus was pleasantly surprised at how easily he could converse with them. After a while each member of the group was pulled in a different direction, including, unfortunately, Harry. Severus made his rounds again, eating, drinking, and making small talk._ _

__As the party came close to an end, Severus reflected on how much better this evening had gone than the last time he'd been at Grimmauld Place, hurt and angry and leaving halfway through._ _

__"Severus!" Called a familiar voice. "Fancy seeing you here."_ _

__"Draco, how nice to see you," Severus said with a strained politeness. Even though the romance between Harry and Draco had never truly been, Severus had angrily imagined it too many times, leaving an aftertaste of negative feeling towards him._ _

__"So, you and Potter, hmm?" Draco asked with a quirked brow. "Did he finally manage it then?"_ _

__"Manage it?"_ _

__"Talking to you. Anyone with half a brain, present company excluded it would seem, could tell he was mooning over you." Draco twirled his champagne glass, looking mighty pleased with himself. "I advised him to play hard to get. Be more Slytherin."_ _

__Severus' eyes narrowed. "And why might you do that?"_ _

__"Because you were mooning over him too. And nothing was going to be done until he did something stupid and Gryffindor. Let me guess, he burst into your room and declared his undying love?"_ _

__Severus didn't answer, which Malfoy took as assent. He practically preened._ _

__"So why tell Harry to be more like a Slyrherin then?"_ _

__"Oh, nothing forced a Gryffindor to act like a Gryffindor more than telling them _not to_ , obviously."_ _

__Severus wasn't entirely sure whether he wanted to hug Draco or strangle him. The infuriating smirk was making him lean towards the latter. "I thought for a moment that you were the one Harry was interested in."_ _

__"Hmm," said Draco, not appearing surprised in the least. "I thought you might."_ _

__"So you knew, and never said anything?"_ _

__"Well, Severus," Draco said with a smirk. "You didn't ask, now did you?" He raised his glass as if toasting him. "Cheers!"_ _

__Draco left his presence quickly, before Severus could manage to hex the little brat._ _

__Before he could get too worked up about it though, a hand curled around him arm and turned him._ _

__"Let's go," Harry said with an adorable excitement in his voice. "I have something I want to show you."_ _

_____________ _

__The pull and pop of Apparation landed them in front of a small cottage._ _

__Severus looked at Harry curiously. "What's this, then?"_ _

__"It's mine," Harry said, pride evident in his voice._ _

__"What about Grimmauld Place?"_ _

__Harry shook his head. "That's Sirius' house. He and Remus probably won't stay there too much longer anyways. We did what we could, but honestly," Harry opened the door and let them inside, into a comfortably furnished sitting room, "that place still gives me the creeps."_ _

__"This is good space. You have quite a bit of land here." He allowed Harry to lead him around the few rooms. It was a cozy and comfortable little cottage, isolated but on a large tract of land. It was quite similar to the type of place he'd always imagined himself in, in a future where he was able to leave the protection of Hogwarts._ _

__"And there's a uh," Harry glanced to the side and shifted from head to foot. "There's a bedroom too."_ _

__"Well, yes, I should hope so," Severus replied, bemused. "Unless you were planning to sleep in the garden."_ _

__"I was actually planning...for you to spend the night. If you like."_ _

__Although he and Harry had been physical a number of times, they hadn't actually spent the whole night through together yet. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to stay over, make love and fall asleep together._ _

__"I could perhaps be...persuaded to do so."_ _

__"Oh?" Harry said with a sly smile. "Hmm. I think I'm up to challenge."_ _

__They fumbled their way over to the bed, hands in each other's hair and roaming beneath shirts. By the time they made it to the bedroom most of their clothing had been discarded, strewed this way and that over the floor of the cottage._ _

__They tangled on the bed, twisted in the sheets and exploring each others bodies with fingers, with lips, with tongues. They moved together, ship to port, whispers of small praises and _yes yes again_ and _I love you, I love you, I love you_ over and over again. _ _

__As they laid against the wrinkled sheets, breathing heavily, sweaty and sated, Severus knew there was no place in the world he would rather be than right there, with Harry, for as long as he would have him._ _

__"I love you," he said, and it was the truest thing he knew._ _

__Harry turned to him, glowing with joy. "Works out well then."_ _

__"Do you really want this?" Severus asked. "Want me?"_ _

__“I want everything with you," Harry said with a grin. "I want to kiss you all over and I want to hear you make those beautiful noises.” Harry lowered his mouth to Severus’ neck and kissed and licked the skin there until he was rewarded with one of those light gasps. He continued, whispering in his ear, “I want you inside me, and I want to be inside you again and again. And I want...” Harry hesitated. Severus noticed the change in tone and wondered what Harry wanted to ask that could make him more nervous than that declaration._ _

__“What do you want?” Asked Severus, suddenly realizing that there was nothing he wasn’t prepared to give him._ _

__Harry fiddled with the sheets underneath him for a moment, before looking up to meet those dark eyes. “I want to wake up next to you. I want to tell you how gorgeous you are,” Harry lifted his hand to stroke down Severus’ jawline and Severus’ eyes fluttered closed, refusing to look at Harry, “and how much I love you, and want you every single day.”_ _

__Severus swallowed and kept his eyes closed, unable to react to what Harry was saying. This was worse that the gentleness with which Harry had treated him when healing, it was worse than the kindness that radiated from the boy in every kiss and touch in the prior weeks._ _

__If Harry could tell how difficult what he was saying was for Severus to bear, it didn’t stop him. “I don’t just want you in bed...or on the couch or on the floor or anywhere else we can,” he added, smiling. “I want you arguing with me in the kitchen over how to chop onions, and I want you with me at Christmas dinner, and I want you across from me at brunch, making some snarky comment about how underdone the potatoes are.”_ _

__Severus attempted to huff a laugh at Harry’s little joke, but that painful little kernel of hope had lodged itself in his throat, making it impossible to respond. Did Harry understand what he was offering? He wanted a life with him?_ _

__"You...want me to live here with you?"_ _

__"More than anything," Harry replied. "If you aren't sure yet though, I understand. I was thinking...my apprenticeship doesn't start until autumn. We could travel a bit. To the continent, or America maybe. Wherever you'd like to go."_ _

__"Together?"_ _

__"Yeah," Harry said with a soft smile. "Together."_ _

__"Yes," Severus said. "Yes, to all of it."_ _

__He pulled Harry closer, pressed his lips to his, and they decided to start on forever right away._ _


End file.
